


Ethics 101

by Amanitus, sinnergy



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 17 Year Age Difference, Adult Ciel Phantomhive, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ciel is 19, Daddy Kink, Dark Academia, Dick Pic Inside, M/M, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Sapiosexuality, Sebastian is a Dirty Old Man, Sexting, Smut, Snark and Sexual Tension, Teacher-Student Relationship, Youth Fetishization, d/s dynamics, ethical debates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanitus/pseuds/Amanitus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnergy/pseuds/sinnergy
Summary: Oxford University.A star student. His professor.An unexpected text message.And a tasty lesson in Ethics from Dr Michaelis...
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 163
Kudos: 396





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Ethics 101! Please sit down and enjoy today's lecture. Notes are optional ;)
> 
> Entry for the SebaCiel Kinkmas in July Event. Prompt: Sexting.
> 
> WARNING (or rather, advertisement?): graphic picture inside...

It was good enough. Sebastian had tried several different poses, several different angles, with a glass of wine at his side and Chopin playing over the speakers. Drawing aside the curtains had been a wonderful idea doubtlessly born from his aesthetic genius; the bars of light in the background gave the picture a soft quality. Hell, _he'd_ do himself, and he was decidedly outside of his own age range.

The red wine swirled in his glass. He took another sip and pulled up his phone again.

Tinder had proven itself to be quite convenient for finding uncomplicated hook-ups. Sebastian wasn't often in the mood, but it was convenient for when he was. The stuck-up faculty head whose ethical roots seemed to span all the way back to the Victorian era couldn't possibly find anything wrong with this. Not that they would ever know. He'd done a bit of research, downloaded the messenger app that seemed most secure, and convinced his Tinder match to download it as well. Brook. That was how Sebastian had saved his name. Some 21-year old from California, on a visit in London until next week. Sick aunt or whatever. Sebastian had a few days left to meet up with him, but the boy was strangely reluctant to take things from the digital to the analog.

Fortunately, Sebastian had a good argument.

He selected the picture, and opened up the messaging app. The edges of the screen were a little hazy. Sebastian blinked; the edges crept in further, then receded. He typed in 'Broo' and selected the first name that came up.

* * *

**Sebastian**

(18:04)

**Ciel**

(18:16) Thank you for your picture, Professor Michaelis. I admit I'm struggling to find its relevance to Wednesday's essay. If you could elaborate, I'd be very interested to hear your explanation. I hope you're enjoying your night.

**Sebastian**

_[ Oh fuck. Oh fuck. 'Brooding One,' oh, that's the name I used to save the Phantomhive boy's number. Oh shit, I'm so done. ]_

_[ Think. Think. This doesn't prove anything. ]_

(18:25) Mr Phantomhive. I apologize. As I'm sure you're aware from studying the curriculum, next week's topic is Ethics in the Digital Age; this picture is meant to spark some debate and inspire the essay due two weeks from now. However, I accidentally sent it too early, and across an inappropriate platform. Feel free to delete it and think no more of it. See you in class.

**Ciel**

_[Oho. Is this how you're going to play it?]_

(18:29) I see. This certainly clarifies things. For a moment I was confused and thought this might be portraiture. Of course that would be inappropriate, wouldn't it? I can imagine this picture will spark some fascinating debates, and I look forward to seeing you introduce it to the class. See you then.

**Sebastian**

(18:35) Portraiture? You've been showing some remarkable imagination, but I'll admit that even a mind less whimsical than yours might come to this same misunderstanding. Perhaps I should rethink the image to use. A sensible adjustment, though a bit of a pity; I would've read your essay on this one with great interest

**Ciel**

(18:40) I'm happy to give you my opinion regardless, but the picture is a good one for the subject-- it would be a pity to change your plans now. I imagine the whole class would appreciate the discussion over both the image and the ethics involved. I think even the faculty staff would be interested.

**Sebastian**

(19:03) Ah! Excellent point. It would be prudent to clear the use of such explicit visual material with them in any case. I had almost forgotten that we might run into some disagreements on the place of viscerality in the pursuit of knowledge... and, as it so happens, I had been meaning to talk to them anyway about an unrelated topic. How appropriate that the reminder should come from you! Thank you most kindly, Mr Phantomhive.

**Ciel**

_[Nice try.]_

(19:45) You're welcome. It would be unfortunate if you were to be the subject of any misunderstanding and I can see how easily somebody might misinterpret this situation. It is very explicit material, and some of our class might be more conservative than I am. Although even I can say I feel more comfortable knowing it's a random image selection and not my professor's anatomy.

(19:47) On another note, I think I have seen you wear similar gloves. Do you own a motorbike, Professor Michaelis?

_[Of course you do. I've seen you stand at your desk and strip those gloves from your fingers.]_

**Sebastian**

(19:55) I do indeed. I admit I let my personal preferences influence my choice of photos. There is something transcendent about leather, isn't there? A symbol of our subjugation of the kingdom of animalia, and yet a suggestion of our common origin...

(19:57) By the way, you offered your opinion...?

**Ciel**

_[Do you want me to praise your cock, Professor? Do you want me to tell you what I think of it? Not bloody likely.]_

_[Fuck, it's decent, though.]_

(20:17) The leather is a nice choice; suitably animal, if that was the intended effect. I don't know how relevant my opinion is, especially if you decide not to share this image in class, but it's certainly an interesting picture.

**Sebastian**

(20:20) I always value your opinion.

(20:21) Interesting, you say?

**Ciel**

(20:42) Well, the composition is good for this type of thing. The visual effect is satisfactory.

(20:44) And of course it's a perfect trigger for all the ethical discussions I'm sure it was intended to arouse.

**Sebastian**

(20:45) Hah.

(21:05) Any way the picture could have been even more visually satisfactory to you? I'll relay it to the artist. There's always room for growth.

**Ciel**

_[I wouldn't mind seeing it wet, actually.]_

(21:14) The artist is known to you, then?

(21:16) I'm afraid art crit isn't my strength. My observations are bound to be superficial.

**Sebastian**

(21:25) They are indeed.

(21:30) I cannot imagine any observation of yours to be superficial. I've read your essays with great interest.

**Ciel**

(21:34) Thank you. I take my course work seriously, and Ethics is a serious subject. With that in mind, does the artist object to their work being used to illustrate problematic issues?

**Sebastian**

(21:40) Any serious artist wants their work appreciated for its duality of meaning, the intellectual and the visceral. And it appears the artist succeeded -- if they can entice even you to speak of good composition.

**Ciel**  
(21:48) It's certainly visceral. There is a regard for light that recalls the classic mid-century aesthetic of Man Ray. Or perhaps Max Dupain is the better comparison; he also seemed to have an appreciation of male beauty. And good composition should be evident to anyone, from a student of architecture to biology; balance is an inborn instinct.

**Sebastian**

(22:05) Oh, of course. It is a portrayal of the new era of sexual morality in the age of technology ensconced in the sultry aesthetics of modernist photography. Or it's sin in leather. Duality.

  
(22:06) I have to go now. I'm meeting someone.

* * *

**Sebastian**  
(next day, 16:04) Hello Mr. Phantomhive, I would like to thank you for the restraint and dignity you've shown in response to my mistake. Our conversation has expanded the curriculum for next week's class.

(16:08) I do hope you're having a pleasant day.

**Ciel**

_[Meeting someone? We were talking. Fuck you, actually.]_

(16:11) You're welcome. I do hope you had a pleasant evening.

**Sebastian**

(16:13) It was okay, though not quite as interesting as what preceded it.

(16:14) Would you share another opinion?

**Ciel**

_[My opinion? It's a good photo. Nice. Well done. Did its job twice last night, Professor.]_

(16:24) My opinion won't be well-informed without the context of next week's topic, or familiarity with the rest of the artist's work. It's difficult to assess these things in isolation.

**Sebastian**

(16:27) Certainly, I do not expect you to do another artful critique so soon after the last one. And you have access to information I don't: the transformation of intimacy through the use of technology and the ethical questions they pose are your generation's innate lived reality. You've never known anything else. It's fascinating.

(16:27) But I won't get too deep into it... are you busy right now?

**Ciel**

_[Shit. That shouldn't sound so hot.]_

(16:33) This is why my opinion is bound to show bias; having never experienced anything else, I'm unlikely to appreciate the true impact of technology on modern intimacy. I'm sure your insights on the matter would reveal more experience

(16:34) I'm as busy as I usually am. I'm studying.

**Sebastian**

(16:36) Ah, but insights come from lived reality, and I strive to always incorporate a vivid understanding of a generation's true experience into my conceptualizations.

**Ciel**

(16:40) My lived experience is predictable, I think; and whether your insights are gathered from first-hand experience or simply from time spent teaching this unit, they are probably still more comprehensive than my own. Ethics is your subject, after all.

(16:43) I think you'll find most of the class in agreement over the ethics of unsolicited nude pictures.

**Sebastian**

(16:46) Certainly they would be of a mind on that one. About staying up until very late to discuss it? Well...

(16:46) But I see I have displeased you. I'm terribly sorry about it. I trust you deleted the picture and never looked at it again? Because that will certainly avoid some additional controversy.

**Ciel**

(17:03) The aim of the picture was to provoke a discussion, as you've pointed out, and it has certainly done so. There are some interesting points to consider.

_[Hell, his personality really is complete trash.]_

_[Hell, this was never about his personality. Was it, Ciel?]_

_[Fuck.]_

(17:04) Of course I will delete it.

(17:06) I also think the class would agree that the ethical issue is not in the nudity, but the unsolicited nature of such a thing.

**Sebastian**

_[Oh. Oh, of course.]_

(19:02) You think I sent it on purpose, don't you.

**Ciel**

_[Oh god. GOD.]_

(19:06) It's hard to see how an accident could occur. Nobody else that I've spoken to from class appears to have been included in said accident. I think my skepticism is justified.

(19:06) Did you send it on purpose, Professor?

**Sebastian**

(19:15) I see. I cannot fault you for your healthy skepticism. However, I would never send an unsolicited nude picture on purpose. Apart from the fact that it is indeed problematic in all cohesive ethical framework in existence... it's far too inelegant. It's the cyberspace equivalent of walking up to someone and desperately rutting against their thigh like a dog, don't you think?

(19:18) Trust me, if I had wanted you to see it from the start... I would have made you wait for it.

**Ciel**

_[Ohhhh fuck, I fucking knew it, fucking make me WAIT for it? You fucking---]_

(19:26) I see.

(19:26) It is a matter of both ethics and aesthetics, then.

(19:27) I suppose that makes me either very lucky or very unfortunate, don't you think?

**Sebastian**

(19:30) That's for you to decide.

(19:31) Some part of you must have felt lucky, at least. For you not to delete it.

**Ciel**

_[Don't look at it again. Don't bloody look at it.]_

(19:34) Lucky, no. Curious, certainly. But at the time I chose not to delete it, I was still unaware that it was actually my professor's cock sitting in my camera roll so my oversight is surely understandable.

_[Shit. I mean it's-- hmm.]_

**Sebastian**

(19:38) Certainly. You would have felt lucky to see it only if we had been talking beforehand. If I had described it to you. Told you how the leather felt on it. The rough little scrape of it. And how hard it was for you, straining against the ring. Your professor's cock.

(19:41) Or at least, that's what I heard. This is how you young people do this now, right? Or the ones who are good at it, anyway.

**Ciel**

_[FUCK. Oh my fucking god he didn't---]_

_[Have a glass of water. Shit, think, think--]_

(19:55) Something like that.

(19:57) Well then, apparently I am unfortunate after all.

**Sebastian**

(20:01) I was all the more fortunate for it. I'm not in the habit of fraternizing with my own students. Why would I? There are tens of thousands of students of other universities in nearby London, and there's nothing I want that they can't offer me just as well. Smooth skin. Curious minds. Far fewer complications.

(20:03) If it had to be one of my own, I could've done worse than one both attractive and curious enough to keep talking despite not believing a word I said.

**Ciel**

_[Don't hyperventilate, Ciel, it's not a good look, he's only messing with you. He'd never sleep with a student. Not anyone that young. Ohhh but he would, he said he would. Hnnn don't say something stupid, think---]_

(20:08) Fortune has nothing to do with it. If your picture hadn't been slightly more interesting than the usual nude pictures I receive, I might have deleted it without even noticing the sender. Your ethics might have been questionable, but your aesthetics appear to have doomed you in this case.

(20:10) Or delivered you, perhaps.

_[Shit shit you idiot--]_

**Sebastian**

(20:13) Hah. Well, I'm pleased to hear my picture ended up in the hands of a connoisseur and still managed to stand out.

(20:14) Are you alone right now?

**Ciel**

(20: 15) I am.

_[You know what he's really asking. And you're going to let him?]_

**Sebastian**

(20:20) Hmm. So am I. A long day of much to ponder lies behind me. I have the taste of red wine on my tongue, a Chopin crescendo in my ears. Black silk below me. You might remember it from the picture. I'm even wearing similar trousers. I've been getting a little distracted by my phone. And by my finger just skimming along a button, a zipper, a sweet little strain.

(20:20) How about you?

**Ciel**

_[Hnnn yep that's what he was asking. God. God. Is he actually going to do this? GOD.]_

(20:27) I'm studying. Or was; my eyes are tired. I'm still at my desk, though. My flatmate is out, and it's finally quiet enough to get some work done. But you're not the only one who's been distracted by their phone this evening.

**Sebastian**

(20:28) Perhaps you should take a little break. Even the most studious mind needs a rest, to be all the more sharp and supple come morning.

(20:28) Have you been looking at it, Ciel?

**Ciel**

_[Only every ten minutes.]_

_[And shit, doesn't he know it.]_

(20: 34) A little earlier I was pleased I'd kept it, if the thing was to be my only consolation for your error.

(20:34) Now I suspect I might have to delete it if I ever plan to get this assignment finished tonight.

_[Well. I guess we're doing this, now.]_

**Sebastian**

(20:37) Pleased, were you. Well, I have it on good authority that the artist approves of his work being used for all kinds of pleasures.

(20:38) Perhaps inspiration for your assignment will strike after some time away from your desk. Somewhere more comfortable, perhaps.

**Ciel**

(20:40) Comfortable, yes. I'm taking a break on the sofa.

(20:40) I'm glad to hear of the artist's approval. Although any art form becomes the possession of the viewer in the end; an artist can only create. What an audience intends to do with his creation is beyond his power.

**Sebastian**

(20:43) Oh! Well, far be it from me to absolve you of all responsibility for your actions. That would not be very ethical. Or any fun.

(20:43) Do you want to touch my cock?

**Ciel**

_[Yes. Don't say yes. Deflect--]_

(20:45) Are you thinking about me touching it, Professor?

**Sebastian**

(20:48) Yes, that is quite obvious; for me to pose the question a thought must have preceded it. But whether I continue to entertain the idea depends on the answer to my question.

**Ciel**

_[Don't say yes. Don't give him the satisfaction.]_

(20:51) Well. I'm still talking to you, aren't I? That should be some indication.

**Sebastian**

(21:02) Hmm. It wasn't the first time the thought occurred to me, no. I've noticed you. And your hands. Elegant and like they've never seen a day of hard work, but know how to grip a cock. I probably want your mouth even more, though. Always so serious, twisted in displeasure. Seemingly unfit for pleasure. Until I saw you eat one day in the cafeteria; the image never left my mind. Sometimes, when you'd come up to me after class to turn in your essays or ask questions about them, my mind would wander. Not into highly ethical realms, no. Only one of my own private diversions. You'd be justifying your views on moral absolutism, and I'd think of nothing but how absolutely I wanted you to get on your knees and suck my cock with that ravenous little mouth of yours.

(21:02) But I can't let you get out of this one so easily.

(21:02) How do you want to touch me? I want details.

**Ciel**

_[Ohhhhh shit.]_

_[I know. I know exactly what I want.]_

(21:13) I'd like to watch your face.

(21:13) I sit two rows from the front of your class, Professor. I know your expressions well. Your impatience, your approval. The line of your mouth.

_[Just say it. Now. Write it now.]_

(21:14) I'd watch the look in your eyes when I unbuttoned you, and when I took you into my hand. When I stroked you lightly. When I gripped you firmly. And I would watch you when I knelt for you, close enough for you to feel my breath on your skin, and licked the proof of your lust from the tip of your cock.

**Sebastian**

(21:18) Hmmm. That's a very good boy. I'd run my hand along the curve of your cheek, tilt up your head, so I could see it well. My glistening cock poking against your lips. Would you willingly open your mouth for me? Allow me to thrust in? Or would you keep it shut, tease me, make me wait for it? You may play at that, my precocious student. But keep in mind I'm not a patient man…

(21:18) I'm very hard right now.

(21:19) How many times have you made yourself come today?

**Ciel**

_[Glistening fucking--]_

_[Hard. Yes. Hmm.]_

_[Think. Words.]_

(21:23) Perhaps you like obedience. Is this why you became a teacher? To impart your ideas to a room full of open and willing minds, a penetration more subtle and complete than anything sexual.

(21:23) You may be impatient, Professor. But I think you would be disappointed if I didn't make you wait for it.

_[Oh. How many times is normal? Three sounds bad, doesn't it...]_

(21:24) I have been restrained today. I've made myself come twice.

**Sebastian**

(21:25) Clever boy.

(21:26) Hmm. Ideas are the origin of everything. Every thought. Every action. More powerful than anything. It is a privilege, to get to pillage all these fertile young minds. Week after week. But only good students are obedient. The best ones, well... they're something else.

(21:27) Twice already? Oh, the vigor of youth... too bad I could only be there in spirit.

**Ciel**

(21:31) Twice, yes. And very likely a third before I force myself to bed.

(21:32) I'm glad you recognise your role as a privilege. Learning is a choice that a student makes, to open themselves to influence and change. It's an act of trust. It could be a dangerous thing if this influence were to be tested. Corrupted. The reception of knowledge is such an intimate thing, after all.

**Sebastian**

(21:35) Do you feel that I've used my lessons for malicious ends, young Mr Phantomhive?

(21:34) Let me know before the third time occurs.

(21:36) I'm in a somewhat more pressing position. I haven't touched myself at all. And, of course, I don't even have an enticing photo of you to help me along…

**Ciel**

_[Oh. And you want it, don't you?]_

(21:38) I have no objections to your lessons, Professor. You have shown only thoughtfulness and self-control, and no doubt would continue to do so even as I sucked your cock. Your hands in my hair would only be the gentlest of benedictions, I'm sure.

(21:39) You have no photo of me. You only have the knowledge that I am looking at yours, lying on my sofa, hard before I even unzip myself.

**Sebastian**

(21:41) I would slip on that dripping irony, but I think I'd rather use it to lube up my cock. Hnng. But your condescending is as well-noted as it is arousing. You may be pleased to hear that even I have some personal limits.

(21:44) Hmm. I find it hard to believe that you've looked at my cock this many times and never imagined it somewhere other than in your hand or mouth.

**Ciel**

_[It's too late. We've gone too far already. Just write it.]_

(21:46) I've looked at it many times. I've imagined many things. None of them ethical, and all of them quite delightful. Enough to drive me to pleasure myself, as I did this morning. As I must now. Unbuttoning slowly. But my own touch doesn't bring the same satisfaction.

(21:47) And now I have something new to imagine while I run my fingers over my cock. What are your personal limits, Professor? How far could I push your limited patience before I received a reprimand?

**Sebastian**

(21:59) Ah. But I fear talk of all the things I wouldn't do would rather detract from the situation at hand. Or situations, plural, as it were. Later perhaps, you may get to ask your fill of questions... for now, I'd much rather think about the things I would do.

(22:02) I'd very much like to fuck you.

**Ciel**

(22:12) Ah.

_[Holy fucking CHRIST. Yes. Yes. Yes looks like a slut, though--]_

(22:12) Perhaps I will learn just as much by observing which boundaries you don't have, too. Would you fuck me?

(22:13) I'm inclined to let you, sir.

**Sebastian**

(22:15) Fuck.

(22:18) Would I? Oh. I can think of so many ways in which I'd love to have you. But that isn't the question. The question is, will I? And that's perhaps a little more complicated…

(22:19) But as for you, stop asking questions, get something slick, and finger yourself. Pretend it's my cock. Get yourself hard and heavy. And close. But don't come yet.

**Ciel**

(22:21) Ah. A much more interesting question. It's enough for me to think about.

(22:26) Enough to make me obey. Enough to make me find the lube and take off my jeans and obey.

(22:26) Is this what you want, Professor? Is this the obedience that pleases you?

**Sebastian**

(22:28) I said no more questions. Do I need to find a gag? Shut that sweet little slut mouth of yours unless you're asked a question.

(22:29) Does it feel good?

**Ciel**

_[Oh shit he was serious.]_

(22: 31) Yes, sir.

**Sebastian**

(22:32) Such a good boy.

(22:32) How many fingers do you have inside you?

**Ciel**

(22:33) One finger

**Sebastian**

(22:34) Oh. Well, my cock is quite a bit bigger than that. But we'll start with that. I want you to keep fingering yourself. Tease your cock with the other hand. Relax. Don't think. Fuck yourself open for me.

(22:35) How do you feel inside?

**Ciel**

(22:37) Tight. And soft. And now that the lube has warmed up, quite wet.

**Sebastian**

(22:39) Hmm. Tight and soft and wet. And hot, too, I imagine. There's a maddening pulse in my cock. It's all wet at the tip. Fuck.

(22:39) Add a second. I know you can take it.

**Ciel**

_[Bossy son of a bitch. Oh shit it is hot, too--]_

(22:41) Two fingers. I have to go slowly.

_[And how the fuck am I supposed to type one-handed--]_

**Sebastian**

(22:43) audio

[Swelling music. After a few seconds, it dims to low background noise. There's the rustle of clothes. A low cough.]

"I thought this might make it easier. Slowly, you say? I did not think that such an eager little thing would need much preparation, but do whatever it takes."

[His voice is low, controlled enough. But the breath comes in fast.]

"Push them in, little one. Go on. Feel the stretch. And touch your cock with the other hand. Tease yourself. It must be so hot and throbbing. Wish I could see it. Wish I could taste the little pearls at the tip. The evidence of my student's sinful lust for me."

[A pause. There's a rhythmic sound of motion in the background.]

"I'm about to put on the cock ring. Did you like that one? Makes me even harder. Although I hardly think that's possible. Hah. Hardly."

[A low moan.]

"Fuck. Tell me when you're close."

**Ciel**

_[Close? Now. Shit. Now. Did he always sound so fucking--- mhm. Delicious? Yes. Always. Preparation, damn you, just because I want it doesn't mean it doesn't bloody sting. I can't send a voice message, I can't fucking-- Shit. I can't type, though.]_

(22:47) audio

[Silence. A cushion thumps.]

"Alright. I'm close."

[It's breathy. He clears his throat.]

"I liked the ring. Yes. What does it feel like? It must be hard--"

_[Hardly think it's possible to be harder? You arrogant sodding-- nhn. I don't care. I don't care.]_

"I can push my fingers in deep, now."

[A small gasp.]

"I want to come. I'm ready."

**Sebastian**

(22:47) Stop.

(22:49) audio

"Hmm... it was most delightful to hear your voice, Mr Phantomhive. I've long wondered what you would sound like, breathy and soft and nearly undone. You did not disappoint."

[A pause.]

"I put the ring on, darling. I'm getting dizzy, my heart is no longer in my chest, it's down there, beating. Pushing out the veins. Driving me mad."

[A sigh, half frustrated, half pleasured.]

"But you can't come yet. Not yet. Not until I say so. Slow down. You may keep your fingers inside, but don't move. Squeeze around them. Feel them. And imagine my cock there. And tell me how you want it. Soft and sweet? Hard and fast? Rough and fast? Tell me."

**Ciel**

_[I can't wait, I can't wait just because he bloody says so. Shit, I'm dripping on the sofa-- oh hell. Hell. He put the ring on. Darling, he said-- oh hell--]_

(22:53) audio

"I stopped. I-- hm. I'm close. I'm too close. It's hot, and my cock hurts, and I want to come, I--"

[Pause. His breaths are quick.]

"I'm imagining your cock, I--"

[Muffled. He moans.]

"I want you to fuck me. I want it deep. And slow. Until I can't bear it anymore and I let you do anything, anything--"

**Sebastian**

(22:57) audio

"Hmm. Oh God. He's got nothing to do with this, and certainly would not approve, but... God. Anything? After all these hours of -- ? Hnn. You hot little slut. I almost came listening to you. Would have, if I hadn't been wearing the cock ring. It helps. It won't help forever, though. Slow and deep I can do. To start with. I wouldn't be able to keep it slow for long. Not if you sounded like this. A few more of these moans, and I would just -- oh. I'd grip you by the hair, and pull, hard. Bite your neck. Spread apart that fresh young body. Speed up my hips, and fuck you harder. And -- _ah_ \--"

[A gasp. Then a sharp moan. Loud and drawn-out. A gasp. The rustle of clothes. Silence.]

  
"Ah. Well, that has certainly not happened in a while. Look at this, I came all over myself. On camera too, so to speak. Did you enjoy it, at least?"

[ A pause.]

"Oh, I'm sure you did. Maybe a bit too much, even. Have you come already? Did it make you come to hear your dirty old teacher spill over at the thought of fucking you?"

[A chuckle.]

"Well, in the odd chance that you didn't... you have pleased me very much. You may come now. Come for me. Come for me now, Ciel, my precious student. My little cockslut."

**Ciel**

(23:00) audio

"Holy fucking fuck--" _[Stop talking. Now.]_ "When you said about the-- mhm, pulling my hair--"

[Long sigh. Sharp intake. His breath is unsteady.]

"I came when you were talking, I couldn't wait. When you said about the biting I couldn't help it, I'm so sorry--" _[shut up, shut up, you idiot--]_ "That was-- oh God. Too good. I just wanted it so much, I wanted you, fuck--"

[A pause. A whimper.]

"And you-- you came too? Oh fuck, I--" _[I heard it. Is that what he sounds like when he--oh shit oh shit. Fucking breathe, Ciel.]_ "Hell, I made a mess. Christ. All over my hand--" _[Cockslut. Ohhhh shit. Breathe.]_ "I've never-- mhm. I've never come from somebody talking about--"

[Shaky laughter.]

**Sebastian**

(23:02) Oh dear. What have I done.

(23:04) Would you like a cup of hot milk?

**Ciel**

(23:08) I could do with a stiff drink, actually.

_[Smartarse prick. Actually. Ohhhh but I said--]_

**Sebastian**

(23:10) Heh. So long as you remember to breathe. Into the diaphragm, not the chest. Hold it for 10 to 15 seconds. You'll be good as new.

(23:11) It's past your bedtime, isn't it?

**Ciel**

(23:14) I usually stay up later than this. I usually have a lot of studying to do.

_[God DAMN but he doesn't know when to shut up. Fucking bedtime. Oh, I shouldn't have gotten defensive. And now I look like a complete child.]_

**Sebastian**

(23:16) I bet you do.

(23:18) How's the oxygen supply thing going?

**Ciel**

_[FUCK you.]_

(23:21) Fine, thank you. And I happen to have asthma, so I don't find that particularly funny.

_[That's not even true, I haven't had an attack in years. Oh, the breathing thing actually worked. Huh.]_

(23:21) I'm going to have to go soon. I wouldn't want to keep you, you probably have somebody to meet.

**Sebastian**

_[ Asthma? Well, shit. So this could've been even more dangerous. Wouldn't want to accidentally murder someone with dirty talk. ]_

(23:23) Sorry to hear that.

(23:23) Sleep well.

**Ciel**

_[Oh. You didn't have to go, damn it.]_

(23.25) Thank you. You too.

_[Thank you? What the fuck am I supposed to say? Just put the phone down and have a shower. Christ, Ciel.]_

(23:25) I really am unspeakably grateful. I expect I'll sleep very soundly indeed.

**Sebastian**

(23:28) Heh.

(23:28)

(23:28) Found this online. I'm off now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick pic art by @amanitus ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second class of Ethics 101! Today's class will cover further explorations of ethical conundrums, a treatise on the transformation of intimacy in the digital age, incomplete and definitely not recommendable D/s negotiations, and somehow more utter filth than should be entirely possible.
> 
> We regret nothing.

  
  


**Sebastian**

_[ Well, shit. I've got to do something. I can’t ignore how incredibly inappropriate what we did yesterday was. It’s more dangerous if I don't know what he's thinking. And it isn’t like it'll go away. I'll see him in class next week and that will be more awkward if we don't talk. Shit. ]_

(15:03) Not a cat person, I take it? 

(15:04) I do hope your sleep was as sound as you were hoping for.

**Ciel**

_[Oh, here we go.]_

(15:42) Not a cat person, no. But not a dog person either. 

(15:42) I slept pretty well. 

_[I really shouldn’t have answered that one.]_

**Sebastian**

(15:43) I see. 

(15:45) I'm glad to hear it. You did so deserve the embrace of dead sleep... 

_[Was that too much? It's true, though. Deserving, yes. Few people pleased me like this. Not the point. ]_

(15:45) I fear my own was rather more fitful.

**Ciel**

(16:02) I'm sorry to hear it. I do hope you recover in time for next week's classes. 

_[And won't that_ _be a shitfight.]_  
  


**Sebastian**

_[So cold again. He must be furious. Ah. That's understandable, I guess.]_

(16:04) Hmmm. I wouldn't miss my classes. Duties and such. 

(16:06) It has occurred to me that there was one promise I didn't make good on last night. I did tell you that you could ask your fill of questions... and we had such interesting debates, I'm sure there's a thing or two you'd like me to elaborate on.

**Ciel**

(16:20) I must say, I wouldn't mind knowing how you managed to accidentally send me the picture in the first place. I'm fairly certain you were telling the truth about it being accidental. Fairly certain. Only about 28% doubt, at this point.

**Sebastian**

_[Oh. So you were still doubting me and were ready to fuck anyway? Ethics, my ass.]_

(16:25) Hmm. It's a rather mundane story, I'm afraid, though it ties in rather intricately with the problems of the digital age... I was perusing the wonders of Tinder, but made the oversight of mixing up your names. The intended receiver did not get lucky that night, alas.

**Ciel**

_[Oh. I see.]_

(16:28) Oh. I see. 

_[Wanker. It's probably true, though.]_

(16:28) Well, maybe it was a matter of luck after all. I received not only the picture but also your attention. And one of these at least will remain as a memento of the fact. Should I feel honoured, Professor? 

**Sebastian**

_[Goddamn. Preempted before I even get on the topic. Shit. How do I get him to delete it?]_

(16:31) Do you believe me now? I must say, it saddens me to hear you were doubting me so. I very rarely lie, Mr Phantomhive. 

(16:32) Ah. Of course you'd keep it. Pornhub is not quite as personal, is it?

**Ciel**

_[Pornhub. Screw you, I didn't keep it out of some sort of-- ]_

(16:38) I'm glad to hear your deep interest in ethics extends to an observation of truthfulness. 

(16:38) I shall probably delete it. It's done it's job, after all.

  
  


**Sebastian**

_[ What a relief. Looks like the kid didn't figure out how much more damaging this is for me than him... did I overestimate him? But those proud, clever eyes. It wouldn't have been as satisfying to watch him come apart like this if he hadn't been worthy. Hmm. Fuck, it was hot. ]_

(16:40) Ah yes. Do you share my reverence for truth? 

(16:41) That it did. A little too well, it seems.

**Ciel**

(16: 43) Truth-- perhaps. I certainly have a reverence for knowing what the hell is going on; that's truth, isn't it? 

(16:43) It really is a perfectly lovely picture, Professor. I'd be sorry to let it go. Maybe I should just add it to my folder for another day's necessity.

 _[....and send. You arrogant twat.]_   
  


**Sebastian**

_[ Well, shit. ]_

(16:45) Oh. It sure is lovely, but images tend to soak up their context, don't they? Become inseparable, even. 

(16:47) Sure there isn't anything, anything you'd rather forget about?

**Ciel**

(17:01) I'm quite comfortable with the context, thank you. 

_[Of course an image soaks up its context. I'll never be able to look at it again without thinking about his gloves. I know those gloves. And I'll think of his voice, and the noise he made when he came. Oh shit. Shit, I shouldn't be thinking about that while I'm trying to-- ohh. Too late.]_

(17:01) I have quite a vivid memory. I don't see why I'd want to forget.

  
  


**Sebastian**

_[ Hmm. So you're still interested, aren't you? ]_

(17:05) Are you, now? Comfortable with the context? 

(17:06) And what about those ethics you kept mentioning yesterday?

**Ciel**

(17:08) You tell me, Professor. I'm only a first-year student. Whereas I'm sure you know exactly what you're doing.

**Sebastian**

_[ Know what I'm doing? Hah. I wish. I successfully avoided getting involved with one of my own students so far. And this is why. Shit. ]_

(17:12) Oh yes. My young and starry-eyed first-year student. More innocent than a wondrous child in a field of daisies. Tricked by his malicious teacher. Innocently believed he'd been sent a picture for class, and took a confusingly carnal interest in it... and who can blame him? He's only 19.

**Ciel**

_[Smug fucking fucker.]_

(17:18) I'm not asking you to pity me. I'm not a bloody kid. I'm simply surprised that you would show surprise, that's all. I wasn't aware it was my job to be the voice of morality in this particular situation. 

(17:18) And I'm not fucking _confused._ I knew what was going on.

_[Mostly. Eventually. Once he asked me if I'd been looking at it.]_

**Sebastian**

_[ Voice of morality. Hah. Fine. You want me to be honest? ]_

(17:20) Morality. Well, you're old enough. You're old enough to vote, have your body sacrificed at the altar of war, or doom yourself to an unhappy marriage. Old enough to have a job and run alongside all the other hamsters. Tell me, by what logic am I held to a higher standard than the government and the capitalistic cogwheel machine?

(17:22) That you're my student, ah. That is a complication.

  
  


**Ciel**

(17:25) I'm not. I'm not expecting more from you than I expect from myself. But don't drive me to show something of myself and then mock me for my lack of ethics. I can accept your personal morality, or lack of it, but I hate hypocrisy. 

(17:25) I was your student last week. I will be next week. And I was last night, when you said you wanted to fuck me. If it's a complication, it's hardly a new one.

  
  


**Sebastian**

_[ Hah. The boy has gotten off his high horse now, hasn't he? It's good he's reasonable. I really, really could have done worse... Eyes on the prize, though.]_

(17:28) Ah. Well with that admission of mutual guilt in mind... it would be best if we deleted all incriminating evidence, don't you think? 

(17:30) And those voice messages, too. It wouldn't look so good if anyone knew how much you wanted my cock. 

(17:30) Or how much I wanted it in your hot little body.

**Ciel**

_[Ohhh I KNEW I should have shut the fuck up. Incriminating? Not if it's mutual, that's the point-- neither of us is eager to spread that around. I don't need the drama. And he would probably get into quite a deep puddle of shit over-- ohhh fuck.]_

(17:33) If you wanted it, there's no reason to pretend you didn't. And if you'd prefer that I delete the evidence of your behaviour, there's no reason to be indirect. Does it make you anxious, Professor? Did you do something you regret?

**Sebastian**

audio

[ Muffled breathing. Then silence. ] 

"Well. I thought this was too important to say over text, so. Do I regret it? Ah. Well, that is an interesting question. The answer is: that mostly depends on how this ends."

[ A pause. ] 

"No reason to be indirect, you say? Very well. Let's bury the hatchet, shall we? We can get rid of the evidence, and pretend none of this ever happened."

[ A pensive noise. ]

"Just out of curiosity, though... I'd like to hear your thoughts, Mr Phantomhive. Just why do you think it's ethically wrong for a professor and student to be sexually involved? Are these conditions always the same? Are there any hypothetical scenarios in which it would be more ethical than others? Could it ever be justified? What do you think, my precocious student? Just _how_ wrong is this? How wrong is what happened, and how wrong would it be if we -- hmm. Nevermind. One question at a time."

_[ And do we care? Ah. But that's yet another question.]_

**Ciel**

(17:56) audio. 

[Static crackle of wind and a door shuts.] 

"How this ends isn't up to me. The guilt is mutual, I think you said, and so's the responsibility."

[Flatly. But hesitant.] 

"If you want to hear my thoughts-- Well. It's unethical. Of course. A teacher is in a position of trust, and the same willingness that leads a student to learn can leave them vulnerable. A teacher has a responsibility to guide their student's minds. To extend them, and to provide them with questions. To show various points of view and present a range of arguments. And it's a student's responsibility to balance their need for knowledge with a sense of healthy scepticism." 

[A cupboard closes. A sigh.] 

"If a student accepts everything they're told-- if they open themselves too widely for a teacher's influence-- that's not knowledge at all. It isn't wisdom. It certainly isn't healthy." 

[A pause. And then more firmly--] 

"It isn't bloody justifiable, anyway."

  
  


**Sebastian**

(18:10) audio.

[ Static. Then a sizzle in the background. ] 

"What do you mean, it isn't up to you? Are you giving me free reign to do whatever I want? I told you: I refuse to take full responsibility to your actions. Hold on, just adding the vegetables..." 

[ A pause. Muffled sounds of more sizzling. ] 

"Alright, time to let that simmer for a bit. Okay. Oh, Mr Phantomhive, those are some good and well-articulated... if rather idealistic.... arguments. You are most certainly correct; a teacher pledges to impart knowledge on the student for their own good, to expand and open their mind, but never to influence it for selfish ends, or those of the government or church. Fucking religious nutjobs in tenured positions. Tssk. 

“I digress. Let's examine this a little further, shall we? Your argument came in response to the question whether it was ever justifiable for a teacher and student to have a sexual relationship. Your answer implicitly presupposes that a sexual relationship necessarily interferes with the implicit pledge of knowledge transfer. Certainly, in the narrow definition of such, it would be very difficult to avoid an undue influence of the mind. Such is the nature of a sexual relationship... that dizzying intimacy of it. But is it impossible? Could the student's mind never remain impartial?

“And how about we widen up the definition a bit? Not just an ongoing relationship that includes regular sexual encounters. Just scattered sexual relations, say. Imagine, for example, that a teacher and student had a mutually pleasing one-night stand at a party, and never spoke of it again. Do you think that this would corrupt the flow of knowledge? Would you think that now the student has been irrevocably influenced? Had opened themselves too wide? Hmm. Wide enough, hopefully, but... you know what I mean." 

[ A pause. ] 

“If you think they have -- why? If they haven't, why is it still never justifiable?"

**Ciel**

_[I can't say this in a message. Christ, I need a drink--]_

(18:17) I don't ask you to take any responsibility for me, I told you. Only for yourself. I can make my own decisions.

_[And live with them, too.]_

(18:17) It isn't just about a student remaining impartial, it's about ensuring the integrity of the learning environment. Corruption will always creep in. Will a teacher treat his student differently after something like that? Will the student have different expectations? 

(18:18) The corruption isn't one of the transfer of knowledge, only of the roles of teacher and student.

_[As if this isn't awkward as fuck already. If we'd actually done something-- well. Shit.]_

**Sebastian**

(18:25) Oh, look at this! Almost as tasty as yesterday's photo...

(18:26) This time it's vegan, though.

(18:30) Oh. The integrity of the learning environment? The presence of sex doesn't fit into it in your estimation? I don't disagree necessarily. Certainly it has little place in a modern-day university, shaped by our current socio-sexual norms. But in other times, cultures and contexts, a teacher may be seen as responsible for not only educating the mind, but to also lovingly help along with their beloved student's coming-of-age.

(18:32) You make a very good point about the consequences, though. Not necessarily in behavior. One can control that. Expectations, too, can be controlled with communication. But hmm.

(18:33) Some images would be hard to forget... you probably wouldn't want to think of your teacher's cock every time you saw him, right?

**Ciel**

(18:38) I think it's already a bit late for that. A picture can be deleted but I'm not exactly going to forget.

_[I shouldn't have to forget, anyway. I mean, shit. It really is a nice one.]_

(18:39) The problem with historical precedents is just as you say: socio-sexual norms. The entire society was built to support that sort of relationship; the exchange of ideas between the pair was expected. The relationship was developed to involve intimacy and not simply gratification. A large age difference was more widely accepted. And of course, the role of teacher was supplied by an adult of sound morals, whose standards and reputation were known to be reliable. You see my point.

(18:40) Nice dinner. But I'm not fond of broccoli.

  
  


**Sebastian**

_[ Ohhh. Nice. ]_

(18:50) audio

[ A few seconds of silence. When he speaks, his tone is amused, but quite gentle. ]

"Mr Phantomhive. You are quite correct. You see my point now: there are no singular actions a human can take that are ethical absolutes in isolation. Ethics is about building logical and internally consistent frameworks to navigate morally ambiguous events, situations and actions. According to the vast majority of these frameworks, even murder can be justified in certain contexts. Is justified, every day, by governments and courts around the world. I consider lusting after my student a whole lot less concerning than that."

[ A pause. The clink of a glass against a table. ]

"But let's examine our context, shall we? I'm sure that's on both our minds. It's somewhat less romantic than a teacher and his youthful beloved of the ancient times, isn't it? But not among the highest of sins, either. We are legal adults. Not permanent fixtures in each other's lives. There's chemistry. No threat of me abusing my authority. It could be worse."

"Could be better, too. By current cultural norms, it's unacceptable. For many reasons. Some of which are even good ones. Some of them you've already brought up. Socio-sexual context is only one of the tests we could use to determine how ethical it is, and it certainly fails it. What we did last night. What we're... considering. It's a taboo. One of the biggest. Monumental. One I've yet to break."

[ A pause. ]

"But then... if it weren't such a taboo, it wouldn't be so damn hot, would it?"

[ His voice lowers. ]

"If it hadn't been for that tingling, burning, mind-breaking thrill of that taboo... would you have come quite as hard as you did last night? It sounded quite mind-blowing, I must say. I would've liked to get the same privilege you got. I would have liked to hear you come."

**Ciel**

(19:01) audio

[A tap gushes. It's turned off.]

"Bringing in murder as a comparison is a bit melodramatic, don't you think?"

[Briskly.]

"Something that significant can possibly be justified if it's a question of life and death. A matter of justice. This isn't even remotely in the same league, it's only--"

[Cupboard door clatters.]

"--only lust. It's controllable and personal and completely unjustifiable. Modern law and socially established ethics might be a reliable framework for moments of moral ambiguity but the fact that we're even discussing this indicates that we're quite aware it isn't ethical. It isn't ambiguous at all. Whether it's wrong on a social level or a personal one doesn't even matter. Or both, I--"

[Drawer slams shut.]

"I don't think there's any question about that, it's completely wrong. But that isn't even what you're asking, is it? You know exactly how wrong it is. You only want to know if I'll do it anyway. Of course it's a bloody taboo, if it wasn't we'd probably have already--"

[Electronic ping from the microwave.]

"Oh shit, shit--"

[His voice is cold.]

"Look, you know what I mean."

  
  


**Sebastian**

_[ Whoa, okay. That did not go as planned. Silly kid, that's not what I said at all. Pfft. ]_

(19:10) Enjoy your dinner.

(19:10) I'll give you a call in about an hour.  
  


* * *

Sebastian put down his phone. He looked at it for a moment. 

Then he grabbed his gym clothes, stuck his headphones into his ears and went for a jog. By the time he came back home, sweat-drenched and panting, it was almost eight. He showered, changed into more comfortable clothes, and considered.

It was better not to call right now. Better to give the boy some time to anticipate it, for the curiosity to ripen and bloom into anticipation.

He sat down at the desk in his home office but he couldn’t concentrate. The words were beginning to bleed together in front of his eyes, and he caught himself skimming entire pages before he managed to hoist his mental focus back on the work in front of him.

Nothing but amateur arguments in this stack of essays. Oxford University wasn’t nearly selective enough anymore, it seemed.

His eyes slid back to the clock. 

It was nearly half past nine by now, almost a full two and a half hours since he’d ended the conversation with Ciel Phantomhive. He reached for his phone, searched for the boy’s number, and pressed ‘connect.’

A click on the other end of the line. A flat “Hello,” followed by “Just a minute--” and Sebastian heard a TV roar briefly. The click of a door being shut. And then silence.

"Alright. Sorry. My flatmate is home. Hello."

"Hello and hello to you, too." Sebastian leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs under his desk. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Had to catch up on some work that I had been rather irresponsibly ignoring for a few days... oh well. Hope you had a pleasant evening?"

"Fine, yes. Just-- fine. Studying. Avoiding both my flatmate and his cat." 

Sebastian heard more shuffling on the end of a line. A scrape -- a chair being pulled out? And the boy’s tense voice, saying, "How did you enjoy your vegan dinner?"

"It was delicious, of course,” Sebastian said. “The seeds were the best part. What did you have? Some premade stuff from the supermarket, I imagine? Hmm. That makes me want to feed you properly some time..."

 _Preferably with some non-vegan seeds_.

"It's still food,” came the boy’s steady voice. “I don't exactly have time to cook. Anyway, it was practically home-made-- it's a traditional family recipe, according to the label."

A pause on the other end of the line. Then: "My diet offends you. Is that altruism or snobbery?"

"A bit of both, really,” Sebastian said, and relaxed back into his chair. “Good food is like any other pleasure of the body: the satisfaction runs much deeper if you turn the act of taking it into an art form. If you indulge in the pleasure, guilt-free. You're less likely to go overboard that way, too. The French and Italian have the right idea about food, don't you think?"

"I agree, I suppose. British culture is far behind in the acceptance of food as an art form. But you'll be pleased to know it was Italian tonight. Only the freshest frozen lasagne."

Sebastian heard the catch in the boy’s throat, and waited for him to go on. 

"...You're right, though. There's always something missing from commercial food. It's never completely satisfying."

“I am not convinced by the frozen lasagna’s marketing tactics, but I am pleased to hear you appreciate the aesthetics of _haute cuisine_ in theory, Mr Phantomhive. You're absolutely right; there's a difference between simply satisfying a physiological need and a deeper one. One more psychological, one could say..." He sighed. "This is why all-you-can-eat buffets are a terrible idea. To degrade the loving act of eating food to stuffing your face with as many empty calories as possible... ah, it's a bit like Tinder, really. Or rather, Tinder is like it. A digital free-for-all unlimited buffet. Do you have experience with it?"

"Empty calories,” the boy said. “That's a good analogy, actually-- an extended metaphor that will take you all the way, I'm afraid. I really am time-poor on every front. Of course it isn't ideal, but sometimes plastic cuisine is the only reasonable option. We don't all have time for carefully-crafted satisfaction."

Static spat into Sebastian’s ear. He waited silently. This might be worth his patience. 

"I suppose you're going to criticise all my lifestyle choices, now.” His student’s voice was flat and cool.

"Far be it from me to criticize you. As you know, I too have taken advantage of the Tinder buffet.... until something far more deserving caught my interest. I may have many faults, but hypocrisy is generally not one of them.”

"You do seem to be rather shameless,” the boy said drily. "But it's better than hypocrisy, I'll admit that." 

Sebastian smiled. “Right, and on that topic… there’s a burning question on my mind... may I pose it to you?”

A pause on the other end of the line. Then: "Go on. Ask away."

Sebastian was silent, allowing the tension to build. Counting down the seconds in his head. Two, three. Four. And he lowered his voice and said, "What are you wearing?"

Silence.

"Well, I--"

The boy stopped. Another second ticked past. "Well. Grey t-shirt. And black sort of-- pants with a drawstring, I don't know-- it's nothing exciting." The boy cleared his throat. "What about you?"

_Oh yes. Good boy._

"Hmm. I'll show you later what I'm wearing. I'm quite interested in this drawstring you mentioned.... would you like me to pull on it? How would you like me to do it? Slowly, teasingly? Maybe as I rub just below it, gently. What would I find there, I wonder?” Sebastian looked up at the ceiling, and felt his mouth stretch into a filthy grin. “A small bulge, perhaps?"

"If you were to do that I--" The boy’s voice was hesitant, but it remained level. "I have no doubt that's exactly what you'd find. But this isn't quite fair. You have to at least tell me what you're wearing, don't you? I thought that was how this works." 

"Ah. You make a good argument. I should feed your imagination as well, shouldn't I? I'm wearing a black button-up shirt. The first two buttons are undone. Black slacks.” A pause. “Nothing underneath."

"All black,” the boy said. “Of course, I should have guessed. I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything else." A pause. "And nothing underneath.” Slowly.

Sebastian smiled. “I want you to pull on that drawstring now, Ciel. Pull it taut, until the knot releases. Is there a button? I want you to open that, too. Tell me what you see when you look down."

Sebastian heard the rustle of clothes on the other end of the line.

"I can see my boxer shorts underneath. Black watch tartan, actually. Very fetching." 

Sebastian reached down to the front of his slacks and ran a teasing finger over it. It gave a twitch. "Watch tartan? So boyish, of course. Well... touch yourself through them, then. Slowly. With your palm pressed against the front of it. Little circles. Then with a bit more pressure....hmmm. Does that feel good?"

"Yeah. Yes,” the boy said. A sigh. "Yes, it feels good. You really are bossy, aren't you?"

Sebastian chuckled. "You think that's bossy? I'm being gentle with you, today. Remember last night?"

"I remember,” the boy said. “You were quite firm about things. I think you find it difficult to switch off your teaching voice, Professor."

"Oh. But it's a two-way street, love.” Sebastian kept his voice low. “I wouldn't enjoy being firm if you didn't enjoy being so delightfully... pliant. Are you hard yet?”

"Mhm. I don't enjoy being-- pliant, I just--" The boy paused. "If I think about these things I'm going to notice a reaction. That's only science." A sigh. "Getting hard, yes."

Sebastian chuckled. "Science, yes. Sure. Do you want me to rub myself, too?"

"I'd like you to touch yourself. I'd like to imagine you doing that."

Sebastian cupped himself through the front of his trousers, and ran two fingers along the length of his cock, already stiffer than he would admit. 

He breathed into the phone. Heavily.

He heard the intake of breath on the other end of the line. 

And the voice, slightly distant, as though the boy had turned away from the phone. "I still haven't gotten around to deleting your picture yet. I'm not sure if I want to."

Sebastian sighed. "Please do delete it. It's risky, if you ever were to lose your phone.... I plan on showing you something better than a mere photo. Soon. Not yet, though. There's things I want from you first..."

"I'll delete it if you want me to. My reasons for keeping it were always more selfish than malicious, anyway. But I certainly expect a little compensation if I lose it."

"Oh? You drive a hard bargain. You do still have my voice messages, too. Did you listen to them again?" Sebastian gave himself a soft squeeze through his trousers. "Particularly... that last one?"

"I listened to them, yes.” Quietly. “You can't blame me, really, I haven't exactly gotten to see that side of you before. And I find it very... effective." 

Sebastian grinned. "Oh. Effective, is it.”

"Your voice is quite pleasant, you know. Everybody in your class agrees."

"Ah. Well, don't be embarrassed. It's quite alright. I made them for your pleasure. Tell me... did you come when I ordered you to this time? Or did you finish along with me?"

"I managed to wait until the end. Until you said to." The boy’s voice was hesitant. "But I-- well. Not on the first try, though. So that's--" A sigh. "The answer is both, I suppose."

 _Fuck,_ Sebastian thought. _That turned me on more than it probably should have... he's delectable. So horny, yet so shy about it. And he’s clearly pleasuring himself, just like I asked him to. Obeying me. Shit. I want more. A lot more._

"Hnn. That's a good boy,” he said. "How are you feeling? Are you getting frustrated yet, rubbing yourself through your boxers?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and somehow Sebastian _felt_ the indignation from it.

"I'm fine,” the boy finally said. “But--" And he laughed, softly. "Yes, very frustrated. Are you going to let me touch myself properly, or do you plan to be cruel?"

_Ah. There will be plenty of opportunity to be cruel later._

"Hmm. Well, I'm feeling generous, and you have pleased me with your honesty, so -- go ahead. Pull it out of your boxers. Wrap your hand around it. Give it a good squeeze. How do you like to touch yourself? I would like to know everything about it; what grip strength you prefer, what speed... how often you like to stop to squeeze or run a thumb over the tip... the sounds you make. Ah. But I'm about to find out about that last one, aren't I?"

"Hmm,” the boy said. “If you're lucky." But there was an unmistakable little _gasp_ at the other end of the line.

Sebastian gripped himself a little harder. His cock had started to pulse like a second heart beat in his groin.

"I usually go slowly,” the boy continued, a touch of dryness to his voice. “As slowly as I can, anyway. Very firm. I don't really stop and-- touch the head at all--"

A muffled sound that somehow went straight to Sebastian’s cock. He undid the button at the front of his trousers and pulled down the zipper. He trailed his fingers across his pubic bone.

An edge of frustration seared in his veins. All of this was hot, hot and amazingly sensual, but there was a part of Sebastian that screamed at him that it wasn’t bloody enough. He needed a little more. Just a little --

"Would you like to see me?” Sebastian asked breathlessly. “Right now?"

"Oh, I--" The boy cleared his throat. "Yes, please."

"Hold on." Sebastian placed the phone on his desk. He ran a quick hand through his hair before he turned on the camera.

The screen showed him sitting at the desk. A water bottle to his left; he moved it away, out of sight. A fire-red canvas with a suspended motorcycle clung to the wall behind him; a poster of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ ’s book cover. The intricate web of the spokes rose up beyond his head. Otherwise, the walls were empty, and the mess in other parts of the room was not visible.

 _Glasses on or off? The screen is close enough, I could go without... but no. It’s better if I keep my glasses on. This is how he knows me. I want him to always be conscious of who it is he's speaking to_.

The camera showed him down to the waist. He leaned back in his chair. The hand in his trousers kept still. With the other hand, he pressed the 'share screen' button.

"... Can you see me?"

"Yes. Oh. Yes--" Ciel’s voice came out too loud from the speakers. "Um. Yes." More static. "I can see you. I'm here."

"Well... hello once again, I suppose," Sebastian said, turning down the volume.

A strange feeling was rippling over him. It took a few seconds to identify it: just the tiniest bit of awkwardness. Of feeling exposed, like this, knowing that the boy was watching him through this dark screen.

"Well, this is new, even for me…” Sebastian trailed off. “This is how you young people do it these days, I suppose? When you're not sending each other Snapchats."

This was one more step toward making this a reality. One less place to hide. He moved his hand without thinking about it, ran his palm over his cock. The movement had to be obvious from his shoulder.

"And finally you get to see your professor like this. Touching himself at the thought of his student."

"It's new for me too, actually," the boy said. "I've done the Snapchat thing, but a live call is... different."

"Different. Yes,” Sebastian said. “Yet another transgression, in an ever-expanding series... fascinating, really, how technology allows us to experience this intimacy from so far away. A new level of cybernetics; the causal cycle and feedback loops extended to this sin..."

Sebastian’s fingers move slowly in soft curls and uncurls. The black screen was unnerving, but he could _hear_ the arousal in the boy’s voice...

"Are you still touching yourself? Keep going. Slow and firm, is it?" 

"Slow and firm." The boy’s voice was hushed. Slightly strained. "I suppose this is the fate of all technology. It's created to bring people together, after all. To simplify and amplify. And humans will always try to fill a need." Sebastian could hear him breathe out slowly. "If this is the way we choose to use our tech, it must be because we found something lacking."

"Heh.” Sebastian smiled, and oh, the boy was touching himself just like he’d asked, he knew it. Could hear it in his breaths. He tried to imagine it: eyes glazed over, mouth slightly open, perhaps. Did he have a flush on his face? A tint of red would look absolutely ravishing on his fair skin.

”I appreciate your willingness to latch onto any intellectual topic, but I believe I know what I'm lacking." 

Sebastian paused, and gave himself a squeeze. He felt a spark of pleasure rise up from his belly and into his arms, chest, shoulders. His face.

"Let me see you, too," he breathed.

Silence. "Okay, but-- Yes. Okay." And then a scuffle of sound. "Just a minute--"

A shaky image appeared on the screen. A flicker of the boy’s hand. Rattling. And a stilling.

"There. How's that?" 

The camera finally snapped into focus, and _oh_. There he was. Back to shy and nervous and just a little defensive, both hands folded on the desk in front of him. Clinging on to a thread of normality.

With a delightful flush low on his cheeks, just as Sebastian had imagined it. "Oh. Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

The chipped apartment walls showed behind the boy, bare beige. The foot of a bed and its dark blue blankets just visible in the corner.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "Well. This opens up a whole lot of possibilities, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed. Imagination is useful, but visual stimulus is-- “ The boy’s eyes followed Sebastian’s movement and looked back up to to finish distractedly-- “is better."

_Oh. He's so goddamn cute._

"Visual stimulus... indeed,” Sebastian said and let his eyes trail down along the boy's body. From his face to his neck, a set of stiff shoulders, a gracefully slim torso, and back up again, slowly, to the boy’s face.

"Shhh. Try to relax. It's alright. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. And you don't have to provide any, ah. Visual stimulus you're not comfortable with.... me, on the other hand. Well." He stilled his hand. "When we were talking about you deleting the photo... you did mention you wanted compensation..."

"Yeah, well-" The boy was flushing noticeably. He sat still, but he cracked his knuckles on the desk in front of him. Once. Twice. "If I have to get rid of it, I thought you might give me something else instead. You were the one who sent it to me, after all. I thought that might be fair." 

He tilted up his chin. It might have been defiance.

_You’re funny._

"Of course, it is very fair. I must pay for my mistake, no? With something just as stimulating, but more ephemeral, perhaps…” Sebastian gave a slow smile to the camera. “Anything you'd like to see in particular?" 

And he started moving his palm again. Slowly, very slowly.

The boy watched his movement like a cat following the twitch of a mouse. Steady-eyed. His hands spread out flat on the desk-top. He didn’t look up as he answered.

"I'd like to see-- you. Your cock. If you're going to show me something. Can I see it again?"

And then he glanced up to meet Sebastian’s gaze, and faltered.

 _Oh. Fuck, he’s so sexy with that eager shyness. Does he even know it_?

Sebastian forced himself to remain composed. "Hmm. Perhaps. Would that turn you on? To see my cock? Ah, but I never told you you could stop touching yourself. But I'll let it slide, this time. But if I show you my cock, you better not disobey again tonight..."

The boy shifted in his chair. "Alright, then," he said. His eyebrows rose into a slight arc. "Show me. I want to see. And then I'll listen to you."

Sebastian felt himself starting to smile, but caught himself before it grew too wide. "Oh. You will."

He reached for the phone and placed it at the edge of his desk. Pointed it down, to focus on the black shirt that he had pushed up just enough to reveal his lower abdomen. An open button. A few curls of hair. And a covered bulge, with his hand playing over it.

"Now. Go back to what you were doing before. Touch yourself. It’s okay. I can't see you properly with the screen pointed down."

Which wasn’t to say that he couldn’t see _at all_ , but there was no need to point that out.

"Alright. Bossy, aren't you?" Sebastian saw the outline of the boy’s head move. "Alright. Now you _are_ just being cruel."

Sebastian smiled, and gripped himself. A deep sigh. And he eased out his cock, guiding it to rest against his stomach. He blocked the view with his hand. 

"I want you to tell me something, if you please, my dear student. If we were to meet... just the two of us, alone... what do you want to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’d--” The boy stopped short.

“Would you want to kiss?” Sebastian squeezed and felt his cock pop into view. The glossy head caught the light.

“Kissing would be-- nice. I--”

Sebastian smiled. “Would you want me to pleasure you with my hand? My mouth? Would you enjoy that?"

“Your mouth,” the boy said, with a sigh like a shiver. “Oh, fuck yes. If you sucked me I'd-- hmm. Well, I'd quite like that."

"Good to know." Sebastian kept his hand still and tickled the head. Wiped up the liquid with a finger and padded it against the head languidly. He drew a string. Watched it snap. "Well, you're in luck. I quite enjoy sucking cock. And I'm very good at it, too... a bit too good for you, I fear. You might come very fast. Would you like me to swallow?"

"Yes." Hoarsely. "Would-- would you swallow? I don't-- find many people who do." 

"Hmm. I'll answer that in a moment." Sebastian flattened his palm against his cock and shivered. "But first, I want to be able to imagine the cock I'll be sucking. What does it look like?”

"Oh, you can't--” The boy was protesting, breathless. 

Sebastian went on. “It's a little unfair that you know my most intimate parts but I have no idea about yours, don't you think? If you don't want to show it then... describe it. Paint a picture for me. And then I'll tell just how I'd suck you, and what I'd do after you came in my mouth."

Silence dragged on for a few moments. Then he heard the boy take a deep breath.

"Alright. It's longish, longer than some. Uncut, of course. It's-- proportionate, I suppose.” A little coldly. “My hands aren't particularly big, really. It's-- well, it's--" His voice stumbled. Frustrated. "Oh, fuck it--"

Sebastian saw him tilt the phone from the corner of his eye. The vision bumped. Blurred. A momentary flash of a bare stomach beneath a pulled-up t-shirt, and the boy’s pale cock laid over his palm, flushing pink at the head.

"There." Breathlessly. And the boy tipped the camera back into place. His face came back into view. His cheeks were colored darkly. "Better?"

Sebastian blinked. "Hold on -- oh shit, did you really just -- ? I had my phone pointed at my cock, love, I could barely see anything at all."

_Hmm. I didn’t expect him to go this far; this is delightful._

Sebastian tipped up his own phone and looked into the boy’s eyes through the screen. "Now..." He licked the corner of his mouth and said in the gentlest of orders, "Show me."

The boy looked away, but he started to move. "Here." 

Slower this time, a more careful drag of the camera, across the length of his body and lower, lower, oh.

 _Oh, fuck. Hot teenage cock_.

Sebastian watched the boy give himself a long sliding squeeze. The flushed tip glistened. 

The boy sighed. "Yes?" Sharply. In impatience, or maybe panic.

"Oh yes,” Sebastian said. “Oh yes, I see you --”

"Good," Ciel said, and the camera flickered again, moved up, and Sebastian saw the boy lean back in his seat, one knee drawn up to his chest. Face flushed, but a little defiant. 

"Now it's your turn, isn't it? You were going to tell me something." The boy’s voice wasn’t completely steady, but he had an air of triumph. "You were going to tell me if you swallow, Professor."

 _Oh? Confident now, are you? Well, that, too, is hot...._

Sebastian’s cock gave an insistent little kick. He placed the phone on his desk, pointed at his face. 

"I like to go slow, teasing.” He sat back. Enjoying this moment. Below the desk, he was stroking himself firmly. “Suck your thigh, ignore your need for a while. Lick your balls. But you'd be impatient, I imagine. I bet you haven't gotten a really exquisite blow job yet. 

“So I'd indulge you, and take that hot cock in my mouth. Mmh. It's pretty long, isn't it? It wouldn't all fit. It won't all fit. It will push past my throat. I know how to work with my throat and my breath to let it in. And I'll suck you, and even let you guide me with your hands. Just how you like it. But I might not let you come too fast. Pleasure is that much stronger when it is drawn-out. When it's built up steadily.’

The boy made a small sound. Watching Sebastian. Listening. His eyes were wide, blue. 

Sebastian continued. “I'll edge you, just a little. And then, when I feel you get impossibly hard and hear your sweet moans of final pleasure... then..."

He paused. A slow wicked smile.

"Then yes. Nothing would stop me from tasting you. I'll have been waiting for it. I'll keep it in my mouth for a bit. Feel the texture, maybe let some dribble down my chin. Maybe involuntarily, too: it might be so hot I could not help but moan. But don't worry, I'll gather it up with my fingers. Push it all back into my mouth. And I'll swallow it all, and love every second of it."

The boy’s eyes were fixed and glossy. His lips were parted. "Oh fuck. " His whisper came husky through the speaker. "I see." And he rubbed his nose slowly with the back of his hand. Tried to meet Sebastian’s gaze and failed. 

He looked down at his desk instead. "That's very... comprehensive. I suppose it answers my question. Quite clearly." The boy glanced back up, then. But his voice was still not much more than a hoarse whisper. "And what do you want? From me?"

"Hmm. I told you very clearly, didn't I? Last night?" Sebastian sighed. His cock was so very hard, and the pressure was building. He could come, but he wouldn’t, just yet. He slowed down. Felt the edge of the frustration, and welcomed it. "Nothing more or less than control over your magnificent little body. I want to play with it. Figure out how it works. Claim it for myself, my cock inside you. And I want you not to think. I'll make it good for you. Do you doubt it?"

Ciel drew in a deep breath. "No, I-- I believe you. I believe that you would." His neck looked flushed above the neck of his t-shirt. He’d curled his right hand into a fist on the edge of the desk, steadying himself. The _other_ hand was still tucked down out of sight. Undoubtedly moving. Squeezing himself. At the thought, at the words. At the sight of his teacher. 

"Will you, though?" The boy looked back at the screen. Meeting Sebastian’s eyes. Steadily, serious. But his lips were trembling. He must be very close. "Will you do it? Do you mean it?"

_Will I do it. Fuck. It's risky. Very. Riskier than I can ever justify with anything resembling logic. But there's no doubt I will. There just isn't. It's not a choice. I'm willing to shoulder the risk. I'm willing to make the transgression. To go there. To fuck my own student. To shit on all my professional vows, just for this one boy. This one boy who's too clever and hot and willing and pliant to resist. Cold and hot. Everything at once._

"... I must." It came out slow, pensive. "I must."

Sebastian gripped himself harder. "I must. But later. Now is not the time... there's pressing matters... hnn. I'm close. Are you?"

Ciel only nodded, arching in his seat. And he gasped. "Yes. I'm so close, I'm going to come if I--" He put his fist to his mouth. Bit down on it. 

_Fuck. This is too hot. His flushed little face. How he's biting his knuckles... the excitement in his eyes. No more time to wait. No more time to drag this out. Now --_

"Look at me." Sebastian’s breath was ragged. His hand moved fast. Pumping. A hard, angry swell in his hand. _Too close. It's coming... it's coming.._

"L-look at me.... and come with me." 

Ciel obeyed. He looked up, rosy-cheeked, hesitant. "I can't--" He moaned it, and closed his eyes. The line of his shoulders narrowed. He was tense, teasing himself. The grip of his hand was out of sight beneath the desk but every line of his body was tight. "Ahh--" He braced his hand against the desk. His eyes fluttered open again. His gaze found his teacher's face again. "Oh fuck, fuck, yes--"

And the boy came in two shudders, gasping for breath, and Sebastian followed mere moments after, his gaze firmly trained on the boy.

"Ah. Hah." Sebastian was rocking into his hand. Squeezing himself, pushing out the last bits of liquid. Sweet relief washed through him. "Hmm..."

_Fuck. That was hot. To see him like this. This went much further than I thought it would, tonight. His little face. Stupid with pleasure. All that sharpness melted. Divine._

"Good... hold on."

Sebastian leaned to the side to grab a box of tissues. His eyes were drawn to his hands as he slowly cleaned each finger.

He heard the boy’s distant whispered _oh, shit_ as he tossed away the soiled tissue and swiftly tucked away his cock. Sensitive, now, and Sebastian shivered a little at the touch. Laziness dripped through his bones. But this is his least favorite part, really, the part after, full of questions and expectations and... emotions. The instinct to get away from this as soon as possible was sitting in his bones. But there was still something else, too. Curiosity.

He watched the boy carefully, his face blank. "...What's going through your mind?"

"Nothing." Ciel was still tying up the drawstring on his pants, pulling his t-shirt down over his flushed chest. He didn’t look up. "Nothing at all. I mean, that's the idea, isn't it? That's why we do this sort of thing."

He met Sebastian’s gaze. And smiled, slowly and deliberately. "You told me. You don't want me to think."

"Ah." _He learns fast, that one._ "Fair enough. But that's not the full story. I don't want you to think while I play with you... but I want you to be conscious and opinionated and your own complex being outside of it. Where would be the fun in it, otherwise? I'm not looking for a blow-up doll."

_No, submission is only a victory when it comes from a strong will._

"Opinionated." Ciel flexed his hands slowly on the edge of the desk. And folded them. He was still smiling drily. "I think I should be able to oblige you on that front, at least." 

Sebastian echoed the smile. "Hah. So you do...." He paused. And sighed. "... I can't really fault you for being confused. I haven't been very clear, have I? And you are so very young, and I bet you haven't been with someone like me before. I would've been clearer if... certain circumstances had been different. I suppose that was a bit of a lapse... I hate this part, but I suppose it's time to talk about rules. Eh. So unsexy. But necessary now, I suppose." He studied the boy seriously. "Now that there's no way out of this."

"That sounds ominous, you know." Ciel shrugged lightly. "Luckily for you, I tend to be good with rules."

Sebastian felt the twitch of a smile. "So I've noticed. Your essays are impeccable, you even keep to the ridiculous formatting rules imposed on me by the university. God. Anyway. I'll keep it short. I'm tired and I really need a shower... " 

A shift in his seat, and he spoke quietly, firmly. "We shall do this only once. Only once. An affair would be far too risky. These things have a way of coming out. As such, it has to be as satisfying as possible. Symbolic. Maybe even a little ritualistic. Gratifying. Certainly not empty calories. I will not use my position and anything silly like your grades against you, now or at any point in the future."

_As long as you don't threaten me. But that goes without saying._

"I will need you to delete everything after. This won't have happened except for in your memory. All clear so far?"

“Interesting.” The boy’s face gathered thoughtfully. A serious look, a little out of place when his cheeks are still heated. “An affair wouldn’t be ideal, of course. Your reasons are clear. I can agree to these terms.”

He looked directly at Sebastian. “If you intend to make it only once, though, I can only imagine you have an idea in mind.”

Sebastian smiled. "Several, in fact. I will let you know once I've decided... all of them are so tasty... for now, I'm not done yet with this pesky part of unsexy rules. I like a bit of challenge, so long as I get what I want in the end. It's up to you how much you want to resist me. It depends on how you'd like it to go. Or how it ends up going. I can't predict it. But you may say 'no' at some point, if you like. You might even tell me to stop. And, this might shock you, but... I might ignore it. I might keep going anyway.” He hesitated.

"So, if you're serious about wanting to stop, say 'red.' It's just a standard. It could be anything else if you prefer. But this should suit our purposes well enough. If you say that, it ends. Do you understand?"

"That seems-- reasonable." Ciel’s eyes were wide and steady, but his folded hands squeezed convulsively on the desk. "I understand."

"Very good,” Sebastian said. “One more thing... safer sex. I'd like to fuck you raw. If I'm going to go there and fuck my own student, I want it to be worth it. I want it to be complete. I want to claim you fully.... and probably come inside you. I just got tested a few weeks ago, and I haven't slept with anyone since. I can show you the papers if you like. My days of reckless promiscuity are long behind me... and as for you, I trust you've been clever. And if you haven't been, honestly I still don't care. Let them put, 'died from fucking his student' on my gravestone. At least that would be kind of funny, wouldn't it be?"

"Of course I've been clever." Ciel cleared his throat. His cheeks were furiously coloured again. "I have rules of my own, too, and that's always been one of them-- always use protection, and don't follow anyone on social media afterwards, and if you buy me a drink-- well, nobody does. I buy my own drinks. I've always had rules." He seemed to be babbling slightly. And aware of it, too. It wasn’t making him any calmer. "I've never really-- I've never let anybody do that. I don't know if I--"

The boy paused, a thoughtful look on his face. The flicker in his eyes looked suspiciously close to arousal. "If this is something that's important to you-- and if it's only once." Slowly. "Alright. If that's how you want it."

"I appreciate it," Sebastian said. _And I will very much enjoy being the first to fill you up..._ "I accept your other rules. Anything else in your rule book that I should know about, young Mr Phantomhive?"

Ciel shrugged. “Lots. Lots of rules. Don't do anything that has to be kept a secret. Don't get involved with a co-worker, or employer, or a friend's parent, or a teacher. Don't think with your dick.” He smiled sharply. "Nothing that applies to you. Except one, I suppose. No lies. I don't like liars. You've already said you plan to be truthful, so I don't imagine this will be a problem. I still have a few questions, though. You said you were tested a few weeks ago, and I won't doubt you. But you also said you were meeting somebody. The other night. And I was-- Well. I'm not going to question what you do with your time, but I wouldn't mind an explanation for that one."

"Ah. Well." Sebastian sighed and closed his eyes. "It was not a lie." _Though it was intentionally misleading._

"I did meet someone. To pick them up from a party..." He opened his eyes and looked the boy straight in the eyes. "It was my daughter. She lives with her mother in London. When she's in Oxford, she stays with me."

"Your daughter." Ciel sat very still. "You didn't exactly strike me as the type to reproduce.”

"Ah. Fair enough, I suppose. I got a vasectomy as soon as I could.”

How old is she?"

Sebastian shifted a little in his seat. Caught himself. _No, don't show any sign of discomfort. That'll just make me look guilty. Guilty, when I've done nothing wrong. When I've been a fair enough father to Lily, shielding her from my darker inclinations. I have done nothing wrong._

"... She's seventeen." Sebastian exhaled, and his voice was firm. "She's seventeen and she's beautiful and she's very clever. And you will certainly never meet her. Or ever speak to her."

"Oh." Ciel’s voice was faint. "She sounds nice." He sat back slowly in his seat. "And how old does that make you, exactly?"

Sebastian looked at the boy very carefully. Unmoving. Waiting out the moment. Excitement thrummed in his belly, but also something else -- the tiniest bit of anxiety? It couldn't be.

He smiled carefully. "Well... I was not quite as responsible at 19 as you are."

"Ah." The boy was looking at him keenly. Tapping the edge of the table with a thoughtful thumb. "Well. I wouldn't have guessed." 

The boy didn’t not look disgusted. There was no sudden revulsion on his face, and that was... well, that was good. 

Sebastian relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair with an exhale. "Well. Thank you."

_'It's broccoli and virgins' tears.' But no, I better bite my tongue for once in my life. I don't think that joke would go over so well..._

"I can email you my test results. It's quite alright. Taking proof is smarter than taking me at my word. As for what I've been doing the past couple of weeks... for that, you will just have to take my word, I'm afraid. But things have changed for me. When I was a young man, I was rather indiscriminate when seeking pleasure. Almost anyone would do. Men, women. Aged anywhere from 18 to 60. Geniuses to idiots who couldn't spell their own name. And what the fuck is a personality, huh? But I've become rather more selective in my old age. I know my preferences. A lot of people are attracted to me, but it's not every day that I find someone who suits most, much less all of my preferences. So sometimes I'll settle, particularly when it's been a while. As I was going to do with that boy from Tinder. I was going to compromise."

He looked at the boy intently. "But I won't have to anymore now..."

"This time, at least."

_Shit. Of course. That was stupid of me._

The boy was still regarding Sebastian carefully. His spine was too stiff, as though he were sitting at a job interview. "You said it will only be once. I suppose we will have to make it worth your while, then."

"That's right. Only once. Thankfully it's only a challenge and not an impossibility to find suitable partners."

But that was still a bit of a pity. The one time thing. But there was no other choice, and the boy’s comment served as a solid reminder. Sebastian might be stupid enough to risk this, but there was a clear difference between calculated risk and certain ruin. 

He could permit himself a little recklessness, but he could never justify sabotaging himself for sex. He was already on thin ice with the faculty; if they found out he was fraternizing with his student, it could be all over.

He needed to stop chatting with the boy now. He'd already gotten what he wanted for the evening. More, even. It couldn’t be better, and it was time to end this.

"I'll make sure it's worth my while." _I'm far too selfish not to. Don't worry about that part._ "For now... we're both sticky. I don't know about you, but I'll go and take a shower. I'll contact you later."

"Of course." The boy said, a little coolly. It looked like he knew that he was being sent off to bed again. "A shower does sound tempting. And I need to get some rest." His mouth quivered, an attempt to stifle a yawn. He smiled instead. "If you're lucky, you might sleep as well as I did last night."

_Hmm. Even this he takes well. Boys quite a bit older than him have gotten teary-eyed and clingy at this point._

"I'm sure I'll sleep quite well... if the thought of what I'm going to do to you doesn't keep me up..." He paused. "Anyway. Rest up. I'll require all your energy and focus soon enough."

And Sebastian disconnected.

* * *

  
  


(00:17) Dear Mr Phantomive

(00:17) Please check your emails. You'll find an invitation in your calendar.

(00:18) I would like to request your presence at my office on Tuesday at 17:00. I'd like to discuss your latest essay with you, and speak to you about the continuation of your very promising career in the field of ethics.

(00:19) I have reserved my office for an hour. Please do not be late.

(00:19) - Professor Michaelis

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... should be an interesting discussion :D 
> 
> If you'd like to recommend this class, please click the 'Kudos' button below or leave a review. Every bit of feedback matters for we strive to fulfill the best curriculum possible at all times.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the third class of Ethics 101! Today's class covers varied but inadvisable pathways to academic misconduct, pretentious literary and scientific namedropping, blatant youth fetishization, and a progression from unsafe D/s negotiations to ACTUAL unsafe D/s.

Ciel checked his phone. 4:49 pm; so he was early, and he could relax.

He didn’t even sit down. He walked up and down the corridor from the stairwell at one end to the mullioned window at the other. Slowly. Past the row of office doors, and the one marked ‘Michaelis.’ Pausing to look out the window to the shadowy Front Quad below, and the high college walls beyond it, hushed and monastic in the afternoon light. 

Almost empty. Down there on the green grass, and up in the college offices here.

But the Professor had picked his time carefully, hadn’t he?

 _4:53._ Ciel straightened his tie. Pushed his hands into his pockets, and kept pacing. He’d dressed as he always did, dark suit and pale shirt and demure tie-- _you’re studying law, not a bloody arts degree,_ his father said-- the same way he dressed for any lecture, for any meeting with a teacher. It seemed the safest thing to do. He’d never had to consider what to wear before, and there wasn’t really an ideal outfit for something like this. 

And at least three times in the last few days he’d wondered if he could have mistaken something. He hadn’t heard from Professor Michaelis since the appointment had been set, and hadn’t expected to. But he’d caught himself nearly doubting-- twice, three times, even with the photo on his phone. And all the man’s messages, oh his _messages--_

For the Professor to risk this much, to invite him here to his actual office-- 

Ciel paused again as he reached the window and remembered the peculiar sharpness of the man’s eyes, piercing even on a phone screen. The purr of his teacher’s voice. 

And Ciel had no doubt.

He looked at his phone, and at the door. Michaelis. _4:58_. If he didn’t knock he never would.

He knocked. Three times, clearly.

Sebastian had been distracting himself by grading essays. It had worked a bit too well: the knocks on the door startled him. He threw a glance at the clock. Early, of course. It shouldn't have surprised him.

"Come in," he called. He didn't stop writing.

Ciel opened the door. And closed it quietly behind him as he entered. 

The Professor was at his desk, and Ciel glanced around the room as he approached. He'd seen this before, but it seemed different now; the wall full of books. The framed photographs, and the slant light from the open blinds, and the utter mess of the desk-- pictures and papers and pens.

And he’d only been in here once-- twice? Asking about the time-table, and he hadn’t been back; he hadn’t needed much help this semester. Not since the start of the year, back when he was still learning his way around and trying to remember the lecturer’s names. 

Michaelis, though. This one had taken no effort to remember. Everyone in the ethics class had talked about him since the first day, and Ciel looked back at his teacher now. 

Dressed in black, of course. As casual, as mind-achingly beautiful as ever. Seated behind the heavy desk. With his glasses on and work spread out before him, and Ciel halted. 

He’d expected to feel apprehensive. He hadn’t expected the back of his neck to feel cold. This was worse than an exam.

He cleared his throat. 'Hello, Professor.'

Sebastian glanced up. 'Good afternoon, Mr Phantomhive.' 

And he looked away again, sorted the stack of papers in front of him, opened a drawer, stashed them away. His eyes lingered on another, smaller stack of papers to his right. This one he wouldn't put away.

It had only been a glance at the boy, but his stomach had jolted at the sight. He was cute, of course. All neat and tidy with that tie of his. Caught somewhere between looking like a proper school boy and an overzealous law firm intern. Pretty face, all careful now. As he should be. Sebastian wanted to look again. He didn't.

He gestured at the chair in front of his desk. 'Take a seat.'

Ciel glanced at the waiting chair, and back at his teacher. And he sat down slowly, in silence, and now he didn’t know what the fuck to do with his hands. 

He folded them in his lap. Dr Michaelis wasn’t looking at him. And this was _exactly_ like an exam. Knowing vaguely what the subject would be, and having no clue about the questions. Waiting to turn over the page and see.

Sebastian finally raised his eyes to look at the boy fully. 

Nervous baby. It was infectious, almost. Exciting, too.

Sebastian allowed the silence to reign for a few moments. Let it needle them both. 

A memory came to him, unbidden: the boy's voice in his last voice message on that second night. How he'd gasped for breath and bloody _whimpered_. 'I just wanted it so much, I wanted you.' He'd nearly wheezed it. Overstimulated. Sebastian had pushed him too far, he'd known it then. Ciel Phantomhive was far from the first pretty young thing Sebastian had ever pursued, and fucking hyperventilation was a sure sign that they weren't yet ready to play.

But then, he hadn't just recovered, but thoroughly pleased Sebastian the next night. Armed with new understanding and strength already, and quick to put it to use, a mere day after getting his precious little brain broken.

 _And I'm going to have to break it a little more_ , Sebastian thought. He was almost sorry for it. _But you'll be able to handle it. Won't you?_

Sebastian finally broke the silence. "Young Mr Phantomhive, thank you for coming here on such short notice. I'd like to talk to you about your work and your academic future. I've been reading your essays with great interest. They're deeply analyzed, thoroughly researched, well-articulated. And your passionate... if somewhat linear convictions are greatly enhanced by your writing style. It's quite beautiful, really. And _distinctive_."

Sebastian paused to let the word sink on. "I believe you mentioned you had your sights set on being a lawyer, is that right? A pity; you would do very well in academia. As is further evidenced by the fact that you seem to have had a rather profound influence on some of your classmates..." He paused, and let a slow smile spread on his lips. "Have you been tutoring any of them, by any chance...?"

 _Ah._ Ciel laced his fingers together.

‘Tutoring--’

Not exactly. He’d been ghost-writing essays for cash this entire semester.

And why not? His parents were from _good families_ , which here and everywhere else was polite code for _‘they still own their old estate in the Lake District but can’t afford to re-roof the place_.’ His father still drove a 2006 Land Rover, and not because it was understated. Ciel didn’t exactly have spare funds. And he was studying too hard to have time for a job. 

He tried not to shift in his seat.

Somebody must have told somebody. He hadn’t been detected, he was almost sure of it; he’d considered his writing style. He’d tried to scrub anything characteristic from his vocabulary. 

The Professor’s sharp face was unreadable, that smile. But the man must know or he wouldn’t have mentioned it. Unless he was only guessing? If anyone could it would be this man with his too-clever eyes. He hadn’t reported his student, though. And was this why Ciel was here?

Not quite. That couldn’t be the whole story. The Professor’s messages had been far too revealing to be anything but genuine.

And this wasn’t even the right question to ask. Ciel needed to decide. Bluff or confess?

He was studying law. There would be no confession.

‘I might have given them a little assistance.’ Ciel kept his expression blank. ‘The first year can be a stressful adjustment period, particularly for those who haven’t come from a particularly academic background. I thought it was the right thing to do.’ 

He met his teacher’s smile with his own, small and pleasant. Guarded.

'How generous of you,' Sebastian said. Careful to keep his tone such that it could be either honest or sarcastic, depending on how one chose to hear it. 

He looked at the boy in front of him carefully, and looked at that small smile. Quite impressive, that one.

It had taken Sebastian quite a while to notice. For a full four weeks, he hadn't suspected a thing. By month two, he had noticed an increase in the quality of some of his students' essays, and he'd become more alert. Two weeks later, he connected the dots.

Moral relativism had been the topic that week. One of Sebastian's favourite weeks in his Introduction to Ethics class. It had been a good lecture, this semester. He'd segued into Greek thought and told the class about King Darius asked the Greek if they would ever eat their dead father's body the way the Callatiae did, met their abject horror, and then pivoted to ask the Callatiae present if they would ever burn their dead father's body the way the Greeks did.

Sebastian had gone off on some tangent then that weaved in a travel anecdote from rural China and somehow ended up at Kant, as many of his tangents did.

When he'd collected the essays the following week and solidified his suspicions, he decided to let the boy get away with it. It wasn't the first time he'd caught someone cheating in his class, and it wouldn't have been the first time that he allowed it, either. If someone was brazen enough to cheat right in front of his face, and do it well enough that he didn't notice, then Sebastian was inclined to laugh, tip his hat, and mind his own business.

Besides, reporting students for cheating was way too much paperwork.

Now he was even more satisfied that he'd chosen to turn a blind eye until the right moment.

'Generous, and morally upstanding, of course. To even look out for the weakest link in the chain.' Sebastian sighed, taking the top essay from the stack on his desk, and wordlessly tossed it toward the boy.

 _Cultural Relativism in Ethics_ , by Adam Bell Jr.

'It must have taken you so very long to get young Mr Bell to wrap his head around some of these concepts... given the pleasantly bovine nature of the boy.' His smile widened. 'Go on. Flip through it. I underlined some passages that I found particularly fascinating. Do tell me of your... methods of assistance. Your cleverness is exceeded only by your altruism, it appears.'

Ciel frowned at the essay on his lap. It was impossible to know if he was being offered a chance at redemption, or simply being handed a convenient noose. Professor Michaelis was waiting, though. 

Ciel turned through the pages slowly, trying to ignore the man’s gaze on him.

‘It wasn’t entirely altruistic,’ he said. There was nothing to be gained by trying to look like a hero here; it was enough if he walked away without looking like the culprit. 

‘Having even a few students who fail to understand the basics can slow the progress of the entire class, and Adam was having trouble with some fundamental concepts. Once those were clarified he didn’t have much problem in finding relevant examples to fill out his essay.’

Ciel glanced up briefly, and back down at the words he’d written so carefully. The lines his professor had marked so perceptively.

_Perhaps the stereotype of the bigoted American is alarming not for the narrowness of their ideas, but for the subconscious realisation that every nation entertains a fantasy of its own superior ideals._

Stupid. How _stupid_ of him, Adam Bell couldn’t have written that even with six months of tutoring and intravenous caffeine.

This wasn’t over yet, though. 

‘It’s an infinitely simpler thing to explain cultural relativism than something more absolute. A straightforward mind will relate to the personal much more easily than they will comprehend the universal, so I just showed him some analogies.’

Ciel leaned back in his seat as he spoke. He put down the essay. He knew what relaxed body language looked like, and he could do this if he focused. 

‘Every family has some unspoken rules-- for example, we were never allowed to call anyone a jerk when I was a kid. My father thought the word was unforgivably rude. But he’d call the postman a _whoremongering bastard_ if he left the letterbox open. I never knew it was an insult; _relatively_ the phrase was harmless. Until I got a little older and realised it wasn’t an appropriate thing to call the neighbour’s cat.’ He shrugged. ‘Every family has its own quirks. And so does every culture, and every society. Adam understood it quite easily in the end, and my help was hardly needed.’

Ciel looked carefully at the man behind the desk.

‘I’m not a teacher, of course. I don’t have your gift for it.’ He paused. He didn’t normally stoop to flattery, but it was the truth-- the professor was good at his job. Chaotic, admittedly, and his leaps of thought would often take the class deep into fields that the textbook had never warned them of. But he was charismatic. He could read the atmosphere of the room. 

And he was clever. Oh, far too smart to be falling for any of this, and Ciel almost gave up. His throat felt hot and tight. But he was determined not to be intimidated by a suggestion and an unreadable smile. 

‘If there was any similarity in style, it must be the inevitable result of sharing a learning environment. The mind is fairly amorphous. And besides--’ Ciel raised his brows slowly. ‘I believe we’ve already discussed the impact that a teacher and student will have upon each other’s intellect.’

'Hmm.' Sebastian looked at the boy carefully. His smile was frozen, kept in place. 'You make some very good arguments.'

And he did. Good enough that under normal circumstances, he might even flounder a little to counter. Sebastian could infer his guilt, but he hadn't exactly witnessed him during his clandestine attacks on academic integrity. The field of ambiguity was wide enough to allow for two players to tire themselves out.

And Sebastian had known that the boy would play. Argue. Deny. Deflect. Do it well, too, oh, far too well. 

But Sebastian had anticipated this. He had not made the mistake of underestimating the boy this time.

The boy was far too proud to hide his intellect, and that may very well be a crucial weakness of his that he didn't yet know he had.

'Certainly, relativity is far more tangible as a concept than universality. Reality is full of examples. The concept has found its way into everyday speech. 'Do as the Romans do,' they say, don't they? Simple enough to grasp. Perhaps even for Mr Bell. _However_ \--'

He paused, and snatched the next essay from his stack. The same title, a different name: Ciel Phantomhive. 

'Fortunately -- or unfortunately, I suppose -- I have a passing familiarity with quantitative linguistics. Many of my colleagues in other disciplines have been trying for many decades to classify and deconstruct text. There are many algorithms. The Coleman-Liau index. All the works of Zipf, of course, with the help of which one can construct fascinating graphs on the frequency of vocabulary used and its relative distribution. Or the simplest one, the Flesch-Kincaid test, used to determine grade level with the very simplest of arithmetic. The number of words in a sentence. The number of syllables in a word. Relative… complexity.'

He studied the boy very closely. 'I took the liberty to crunch a few numbers, and… oh dear me. Either your discussions of ethics also extended to a very, very thorough lesson on paragraph composition, or I must conclude that something a little more nefarious is going on. To raise Mr Bell's index from the equivalent of A-level reading to nearly professional in a few short weeks… marvelous.'

Sebastian reclined in his seat. His smile never wavered. 'But perhaps, this is where our discussion should end, shouldn't it? It's not up to me to decide. My findings might be of interest to the faculty, though, and numbers are a little harder to argue against than mere speculation on the plasticity of Mr Bell's mind. Four students suspended last year for violating academic integrity by extending their altruism just one step too far, did you hear? And their investigations were none too pleasant, I hear.' 

Sebastian finally allowed his eyes to wander, quick glances down the boy's neck. To his shoulders. His tie.

'Hold that thought, though… there might be a way to resolve this that is a little more... pleasant.'

Ciel sat very still as his teacher spoke. That was it, then. The man already knew. Had he been simply amusing himself, a tease before he made his report to the faculty?

There was no point denying anything; if anybody asked Adam about the essay, the idiot would fold. And then it would all come out, and clinging to a lie would seem less clever and more childishly stubborn.

Ciel didn’t blink. He looked back at the Professor steadily, a particular fixed look which he usually found _effective_.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Tell me what this is about.’

'What is this about? Hmmm.'

Sebastian felt the boy's intense look on him. He had particularly piercing eyes, that ones. So cold now. Lances of ice. A lesser man would quail. Even he felt a shiver in his stomach.

'You're a clever boy, aren't you?'

He paused, and leaned back in his chair. 'You do what I say. Exactly as I say it. And no one will know.' He chuckled. 'And that, I believe, is how these things go...'

Ciel twitched his toes inside his shoes. ‘I do what you say?’ It came a little breathless. And he couldn’t help it as he sat tensely under the man’s gaze, under that withering light amusement, and understood exactly what this exam was going to involve. ‘Oh, you bastard.’ He exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowed. ‘You utter bastard.’

It was almost admirable. This whole thing. Ciel smiled sharply and leaned forward to drop the essay back onto his teacher’s desk.

'I've been called that before,' Sebastian said easily. 'Too many times to count.'

 _Do you understand?_ he thought. The anger seemed real. The contempt. But the sharp smile: he couldn't be entirely unaware that this was a game. They were playing. _You just don't know the rules yet, do you?_

''Bastard' won't do for this, though,' Sebastian said. He looked at the boy intently. 'You shall call me something else very soon. But first.' And his low voice hardened. 'Stand up straight.'

Ciel didn’t move.

And then he re-folded his hands slowly. The Professor’s pose was relaxed but there was a distinct edge to his dark eyes, and Ciel felt it all the way down his back.

‘I’m afraid you’re going to need to be very clear with me,’ he said carefully. ‘Is that an order, Dr. Michaelis?’

'The first of many.'

Sebastian gave the boy a hard stare. One that the boy would not have seen on his face before. _I was nice to you, last time we talked. On the video call. But I told you what I expected. Do you want to hear it again?_

'This is an order, and then there will be others, and you will follow them all. I will start small. Then I'll ask for more. And you _will_ obey, and if you don't, if you defy me... well. It will get worse. A lot worse.' He smiled, pleasantly. 'Now. Stand up.'

Ciel’s folded fingers were hot. Apprehension, yes. And a flush of something very different, firm in his throat. 

He stood up from his chair. And straightened his jacket. He was trying not to move too quickly, but he already knew that he wasn't going to defy that unyielding stare.

He tipped up his chin, though, not very politely. 'Better?'

'Well, that's a good start,' Sebastian said. 'You'll have to do a whole lot more to please me, though.'

But this was nice. Very nice. He felt the thrill of the control settle into him. It was a feeling like being in the calm eye of a storm while he controlled the swirling rage outside. He knew what to do. Knew what to say. Knew what he wanted. It was natural. 

It was relief.

And a damn good sight. Now that the boy had stood up, Sebastian could take his time looking at him. That fine jacket. A promise of a slender waist. His hips. The front of his trousers. 

'For the next hour, your body is mine,' he said. It was like he was hearing someone else say it. 'Let me see it. Take off your jacket. Do it slow.'

Ciel felt the heat rise up along his chest. His neck. But he could do this. He’d known he’d be undressing, it’s what he’d come here for, and it wasn’t so hard, shuffling back his jacket from his shoulders. He met the man’s eyes squarely. 

And he did it slowly, sliding the jacket off, and shook it out, and hung it neatly on the back on the chair beside him. And glanced back at his teacher.

‘Yes?’

'Good. Very good.'

Sebastian could see a little more of that hot young body now. The contours of it. The slim boyish chest beneath the button-up. Well-fitted, too.

'Come to me now. Around the desk. Stand close. Let me see you up close.'

Ciel walked around the edge of the professor’s desk, unbuttoning his shirt-cuffs. And the room seemed different from over here; the angle had shifted. The light. He looked at his teacher, seated comfortably back in his office chair, and stopped at the edge of the desk.

Sebastian pushed himself off the desk and swivelled his chair around so he was facing the boy. Closer, now. He could see him more clearly. And oh, he _felt_ him, too. The excitement. 

Ciel loosened his tie; tugged it off. Dropped it onto the desk. Still looking at the man, but he wondered if he was colouring as hotly as he felt.

'Now, who told you to take off your tie, little boy?' Sebastian’s voice lowered. 'I quite liked it on you. If you want to do anything, ask for permission. Are we clear?'

'Yes, I--' Ciel stopped. And sighed. 'Yes, of course.' He began to unbutton his shirt, the tight fiddly little button at the top of his collar, and the next, and the next. 

'Stop.' Sebastian's voice was hard. 'What are you doing? Did I tell you to unbutton your shirt? This won't do. I'll have to punish you now. You give me no choice.' He sighed. 'From now on, you shall call me 'sir.' Do you understand? Say it loud and clear.'

Ciel stopped. He lowered his hands again, and this time curled them at his sides. 'I understand.' He hesitated. 'Yes, I mean. Yes, sir.'

'Good boy.' Sebastian sighed. 'Listen to me. I don't want you to unbutton your shirt just yet. I want you to open another button, though. And then I want you to reach inside and touch your little cock, and I want you to rub it and I want you to get yourself hard. In any way you like. In any way you can. You _can_ get hard, can't you? And I want you to look at me while you do it. Look your professor in the eye, Ciel, while you touch yourself in his office. And don't look away.'

 _Of course I can get hard_ , Ciel thought. But shit, to actually do it under these watchful eyes--

He felt for the button of his trousers, and undid it. And that was easy. And slipping his fingers inside was simple too, under the waistband of his underwear and down to the warmth of his cock. It was simple. 

The difficult thing was looking at his teacher while he did it. _That_ was the thing that buzzed over his skin, in his fingertips, and twitched under his stirring hand.

Sebastian felt himself shiver in excitement as he watched.

He'd seen it before, of course. Even more than this. But it was different to see it in the flesh. Oh, the boy _could_ get hard, couldn't he?

Sebastian smiled. And leapt to his feet.

He came closer, and looked down at the boy, enjoying the height he had on him, how he could look down, how the boy's eyes were level with his throat.

'Keep going.' He came even closer. One more inch, but careful not to touch. Not a single part of him. He wasn't going to break that boundary yet.

But he felt it, anyway. The boy's personal space giving way around him. The thrum of his excitement.

It was getting hard to breathe. He sucked in the oxygen and released it with, 'Keep going. That's good. You can look at my chest if you like. Or my neck.'

He leaned down, until his lips were close to the boy's ears. He couldn't see him touching himself now, but he could still _feel_ it. In the shivers of his little body. His reddening skin. Hot now with a rosy pulse.

He breathed in the scent of arousal, and felt himself stir.

'Good boy.' It was almost a whisper. 'Do you want it?' A pause. 'For me to touch you. Do you want it?'

Ciel made a sound in his throat. ‘Yes.’

It was only a game. He could tell himself this when the low voice hardened, when the man’s face regarded him coldly. But now his professor was standing close to him, so close, and if Ciel only arched his hips a little he'd be able to press himself to the heat. He forced himself to stand still, his other hand gripping the edge of the desk, but he let himself feel it, the nearness. The long line of the man’s body, his leather boots settled between Ciel’s polished shoes. His black buttoned shirt. Almost touching. 

The whisper beside his ear. _Good boy._ It shouldn’t have stirred him like that. 

He rubbed his fingers tighter into his cock, caught under the warm fabric, and felt it shudder. The thought of his teacher's hands on him ached in the curl of his hands.

‘Yes.’ Ciel tried to say it steadily.

 _Ah, so eager and willing_. Sebastian could see it in his shoulders, his arms. That trapped tension, frantic with the will to move. Tight with the effort to hold back, to obey. 

A sharp pulse. His own cock strained his trousers. His control was slipping, he could feel it. The calm place inside the eye of the storm started to shake.

_Self-control. Shit. It’s too hard._

Sebastian forced himself to take a tiny step back. He searched for eye contact. Found and held it while he walked a slow half circle around the boy. Never looking away. He took a step closer once the boy was at the right angle, directly in front of his desk. One push and his cute little arse would be on top of it.

He leaned in. 

‘Are you sure? Hmm. I am your professor. It's the truth. And you are my student. We are bound by a contract of academic integrity. Within these famed walls of Oxford University. A sprawling temple dedicated to the worship of knowledge. Of quiet learning. Asceticism. And yet, you’re in my office… hard and willing and just waiting for it -- and oh… _aching_ for my touch, but once I do…’

Sebastian trailed off with a shiver.

He inhaled. And exhaled. The boy’s hair fluttered.

'Once I touch you, my sweet student... I’ll keep touching. I won’t hold back.’ _I couldn’t even if I wanted to_. ‘I will do as I please. Take my complete pleasure from you, in any way I want. I can't predict what I will do. Most of it... you'll love as well, but... if ever there's something that sets off alarms... remember what color they are. I won’t remind you again. And now.'

He was shaking.

'Say, “please touch me, Professor.” 

Ciel’s lips were dry. He licked them slowly. He had to tilt his face up to look at his teacher, and the man’s eyes held him, dragging his gaze. 

‘I know,’ he whispered. And he did. He knew what it would mean if he let himself be touched. Taken. In here, and there would be no going back for either of them; the risk was undeniable. 

And so was the ache in his stiffened cock, the thump of blood in his head. 

‘I know. I’m sure.’ And this wasn’t quite so certain; this was an edge he couldn’t see beyond, and he’d have to trust his teacher. Who was leaning over him so hungrily. Standing so close Ciel had to lean back against the desk.

The man felt as strong, as dangerous as any panther. Ciel knew a little of his teacher’s mind; the chasms of its wit, its imagination. He knew just enough to be afraid.

He shivered. He didn’t need to know what he wanted. He only knew that he was here because he wanted it. And the man desired him, too. He must. To risk this, to say these things--

Ciel’s hand stilled on his cock, shaking. 

‘Please.’ It was hushed. It wasn’t steady. ‘Please touch me, Professor.’

The first touch was on the boy's hand. An electric current went through Sebastian. Smooth skin beneath him, unmoving, and he pulled it away, to the side.

The second was on the boy's shoulder. A pull, over to a part of his desk that wasn't littered with his things. His workspace, framed by stacks of papers and a lamp. A rough push. Sebastian followed, pinned this delicious boy down to the desk, and looked down at him like, spread out on top of his desk life a sacrifice, and thought made his head spin. And he pressed his mouth to the boy's neck and breathed in, and all the touches, the third, fourth, he stopped counting, nearly made him groan.

The hot flushed skin of the boy's neck against his lips. His hardness against Sebastian's stomach. The line of his body along Sebastian's chest. His chest beneath Sebastian's hands. His thigh, pressed up against Sebastian's own cock. He bucked forward once. And again. _Oh God._

He swallowed the groan, but it was still a gasp. Softly against the boy's neck. He closed his lips by pressing an open-mouthed kiss against it. Tasted the salt on it.

Ciel breathed in sharply. The man’s mouth was hot. Soft on his skin, and he felt the breathy gasp against him. He arched against the man’s body, the delicious heat of it. The hand moving over his chest, a roar of heat through his head, and he felt something else.

His teacher’s arousal, firm against him, a grind on his thigh. 

_Oh. Fuck..._

And Ciel moaned. Flushed. Raised his hand to feel the man’s body, the curve of his back, running his fingers around the waistband of his professor’s trousers and pushing under his shirt. There, the warmth of his skin, and he rocked his hips upward. He felt the press of his own cock. And the kiss against his neck, a shudder through his skin.

‘Yes.’ He sighed. He’d wanted to be touched, he’d wanted _closer_ and this was oh, achingly good. ‘God. Yes…’

Sebastian's spine stiffened at the feel of the boy's hot hands under his shirt. Silly vanilla boy. Did he still think he was one of his school boy friends? He did not easily allow his submissives to touch him so freely, but --

Mmh. All those tasty reactions. The pulsing, gratifyingly obvious _need_ of him. That hard cock arching up toward him, desperate for friction. And his _moan_ , fuck. Sighing. Saying yes and yes...

Sebastian decided to allow it. Even enjoyed them a little, those greedy little hands. The boy must have no idea how generous Sebastian was being.

His student had been good so far. A joy to play with. Inexperienced, but willing. The right kind of instincts. He would learn. For now, Sebastian just wanted to see more and more of his sweet pleasure... _I'll let you have some fun now and I'll have some thinking of a way to punish you later..._

Another hot kiss at the boy’s neck, a hint of teeth. His glasses were in the way. One more kiss and he slid down, trailed his mouth across the boy's throat, and lower, to the top of his chest. The fabric of the boy's shirt. Sebastian buried his hands in it, pulled on it from both sides. The material gave way. Something flicked against his chest. A button.

Ciel gasped and lay still, his hands curling on the desk beside him

Sebastian pressed himself away from the desk. He severed the contact along their torsos. Hovered over the boy. Kept grinding against his thigh in rhythmic presses.

He plucked his glasses from the bridge of his nose and set them aside. He blinked against the blur. Reality cut back into focus after several seconds. The boy's ripped shirt, flashes of a smooth chest. Rosy nipples. The outline of the boy's hard cock against his trousers. And back into his eyes, pinning him with a hard look.

Ciel’s cock pulsed. But he didn’t dare to pull the man close to him again. He moved his hand, instead, to rub himself.

‘If you look at me like that--’ He breathed in. Out-- ‘I’ll start to think you want something, sir.’

 _Want something._ Sebastian wanted too many things, that was the problem. He had too many things in his drawer that he could use. Too much sampling and touching and tasting left to do with only whatever was left of this hour -- forty minutes? Thirty?

Too many ways in which he wanted to make him moan, and cry, and scream, and more...

Sebastian raised his hips to stop himself from grinding. A slow stab of frustration in his loins. He tried to ignore it.

Sebastian reached for the boy's hand. Pried it off his cock gently. Watched a frustrated twitch through the dark material. Still clothed, the both of them, but oh, his student was so excited. It was delightful. It probably would not take much to tease him to ecstasy. And then he'd be softer, more pliant, after. And the rest of this might just go that much more easily...

He leaned in. He rested one hand on the boy's hips, put pressure on it, and ran it up along his chest. A long firm caress that touched everything in its wake. 

'You've been good. And now you're so very excited.' His hand slid lower, flicked at a nipple, moved lower, to the front of the boy's trousers. 

Sebastian shivered. 'I shall reward you. With what I told you I wanted. When you asked me. If I swallowed.'

Ciel felt his cock shudder under his teacher’s hand. Oh, the man was so _sure_ of himself, that self-satisfied purr of his voice. But he was right, and Ciel sighed at the touch, the teasing fingers pressing between his legs, firm around the impatient swell. This was more than the usual lust that seized him, a brief hunger to be sated-- this burned cold in his spine. The risk and the game and the anticipation, and if the professor did _that_ \--

He curled his hands up tight, forcing himself not to push into the man’s hand

‘That--’ Steady now. ‘That would be _very_ fucking nice.’

 _Hah_. The boy could do better than that, surely, Sebastian thought. Not even a please. And Sebastian would love to drag it out, make him beg again. And kiss him everywhere in anticipation of it, all over his neck, chest, hips, belly, thighs. The nape of his knee. Torment him with his mouth until he was in pain from the need for it. 

But there was no time. He would have to settle. Settle for something quick and efficient, and the boy's animal taste.

His hand snaked beneath the boy's trousers, touched the tip, slid his fingers down along the shaft, and gripped it firmly.

Ciel breathed in raggedly at the grip. ‘Oh God--’ 

'Hold still. 'Don't touch me. And be quiet.' A squeeze. 'Or I'll have to gag you.'

Ciel's cock ached shuddering even as something in his chest quailed at his teacher’s cool voice, the sharp glance. It was worse than class, worse than having to stand up and explain something, that peculiar direct gaze.

‘Yes, sir.’ He whispered it, pressing his spine into the desk under him. Flinching at the strong fingers curled around him.

Sebastian hummed his approval. This boy definitely had the right instincts, Sebastian was sure of it now. 

To so clearly be intimidated and hopelessly turned on at the same time. To have the capacity to experience fear and arousal at the same time.

It was something that Sebastian could only imagine.

He took a step back and pulled up the boy enough to push down his trousers. The boy's cock popped into view with his own hand wrapped around it. 

'Oh.' He gave it an obvious look and flashed the boy a smirk. 'I must say, the phone screen didn't do it any justice... what a cute cock you have, my dear student.'

Ciel glared. And looked away from his teacher’s teasing face, bucking his hips upwards into the strong grip. 

‘I’m glad it meets with your-- _nhn_ \-- approval.’ Of course the professor wouldn’t miss a chance to needle him over something, the man _lived_ for provocation. ‘We’ll see if I can say the same of you.’

He glanced back at the professor, and it was impossible not to let his eyes slide back down the man’s long body, the crisp lines of his black shirt, the unquestionable arching arousal beneath his trousers. But Ciel had seen the photograph. He knew it as well as the view from his own window, and if the grinding against his knee a moment ago was anything to judge by, he wouldn’t be disappointed.

Sebastian leaned in closer. 'Oh, you can't wait, can you?' Hotly, against the boy's stomach. A quick kiss there, a nip at his belly button. 'You'll get your fill of my cock soon enough. If you behave.'

Ciel grunted. Did the man always have to be so bloody smug? He could wait, of course he could wait. He’d been patient this long. Days, and hours, and the burn of those sharp eyes while he undressed.

Sebastian bit down again. Harder this time, catching some skin between his teeth, grinding down. And then he slid to his knees and dragged his mouth lower and swallowed his student's cock.

Ciel bit down on his lower lip. ‘Fuck--’ 

And put his hand to his mouth. His fist. He’d have to be quiet. But every inch of him wanted to thrust into the heat, to push his hands into the man’s dark hair and hold him deeper and he couldn’t be silent.

He had to be. Somebody would hear. The professor had ordered it. He glanced down at the wet lips working over his cock and groaned, hushed against his knuckles.

Sebastian took a moment to enjoy the boy's taste, his scent from so close, heavy with arousal.

His own cock pulsed slowly, too. He had to ignore it.

Slow and firm, was it?

A few teasing licks at the head and he settled on that kind of rhythm, looked up, and smiled.

‘God.’ Ciel swallowed. ‘Oh, fuck--’ Weakly. He shouldn't have looked down. The glitter of his teacher’s eyes, the slow curving smile turned over inside his chest. The man’s mouth took him deep and soft.

And _strong_ , the fingers curled tight around the base of his cock, a hungry tug. Ciel pressed his lips together. There was nothing to hold onto. He was agonisingly stiff in his professor’s mouth. And it was aching behind his knees already, the need to move, to sigh and spill and let the ripple carry him, but this felt too delicious, hot and wet and he didn’t want it to end. He closed his eyes and felt his whole back stiffen, a flush of heat.

Sebastian didn't slow down, when he felt the boy swelling in anticipation. He slid down one hand, gently tracing the boy's balls and slipping behind them, caressing the perineum. He would start to press his finger up against it soon. Squeeze him from both ends. He'd have him dry.

He paused for a moment to speak. 'Let go,' he said. 'You may move freely now. Come for me and say my name. Let me hear it.'

Ciel gasped. ‘I can’t--’ 

_Can’t come on demand, I’m not a puppy,_ but he was closer than he ever wanted to admit, teased by that clever mouth. _Can’t say your name._ He couldn’t. Nobody called the man by his first name, not the staff with their public-school manners or the students, all calling ‘Mr Michaelis’ sing-song down the hallway after him--

‘Ah, I can’t--’ He wanted to. He wanted to do as his teacher asked him, so nicely, oh--

Ciel braced his hanging heels against the desk and arched into it, into the warmth, the pleasure of the man’s lips.

‘Hnn, fuck--’ A bump of his hips. He tried to be quiet. But his breath was another gasp. When the swell filled his skin and hummed in his bones and rose up, a wave, and pushed him deep into his teacher’s mouth.

‘Oh fuck, ah-- _sir_ \--' His thighs were trembling when he came, his hands clenched tight on the desk.

 _Oh God, yes,_ Sebastian thought _._ The sounds he was making. Gasping and cursing and saying -- not his name, _bad boy, bad boy_ , but he did say something else that pleased him, and he felt the boy's cock get impossibly hard.

Sebastian took it in deep, massaged the base through each shudder. Roughly, tugging on him, helping each shivering explosion. He felt the boy's cum splatter against the back of his throat. Not a great taste by objective standards, but so _hot_ because of what it was, because it came from this boy, from his loins. Because it was the seed of his body. Sebastian had to stifle a moan. _Fuck._ He clamped his lips closed tight to prevent all the fluid form rushing back out and dripping along the boy's cock. His mouth was impossibly wet now, slick and gushy.

Ciel’s ears buzzed with silence. He lay still, his head a nest of dizzy softness, feeling the last tremor of pleasure and the long fingers squeezing him, stroking through the final pump of heat. Warm. Limp.

Sebastian pulled the boy's cum back through his teeth and swallowed about half of it.

The rest he spit slowly on the boy's stomach. One heavy glob of it. And he chased the slip with his mouth, licked at it, played with it. And now he was moaning. Quietly, against the boy's skin.

Ciel watched, breathless. The tip of the pointed tongue, glistening. Dragging over him. The suck of the man’s lips.

He swallowed his moan. His teacher was enjoying this, too much, oh God, playing with him. The man’s noises hummed against his skin, hot and close, and Ciel felt the sound coil up strangely inside him.

Sebastian lapped at the boy's stomach once more before he climbed up along his body.

 _Fuck_ . He was a little dizzy with arousal. His cock pressed up against the boy's leg again and it was good. Too good. Fuck. The boy's taste and smell. It had been too gratifying, but not gratifying enough, a mental thrill with no physical payoff and his body was _furious_ with him.

'Fuck,' he said quietly. Higher up now against the boy's shoulder. And up to his ear, moving along the line of him. 'That was hot. _You_ were hot. And your taste...' That hot shivering fresh young body. How he wanted to just jump him now --

Sebastian did jump, but not at the boy. A sound startled him. A clatter, followed by a steady stream of _click-click-click_ , and panic seized Sebastian, enough to grab the boy and press his face into his shoulder, to stifle all sound, and hold him there, as if this could avert the apocalypse. Hold him close, as if this wouldn't even make it all worse if someone came in. Himself, standing up with an obvious bulge in his trousers, holding a young student with his pants around his knees and a bare, spent cock nestled between his thighs.

Click click click. Heels. It had to be heels. Someone walking down the corridor. That wasn't strange, though, was it? They must be passing by. And that was normal. A lost soul in the office wing. Who was it? Just someone passing by. It had to be.

Sebastian felt his heart at the back of his throat, anyway. The footsteps reached his office door. And kept going.

Ciel closed his eyes, warm against his teacher’s chest, listening to the echo of passing footsteps. To the steps, and the thump of his professor’s heart against his own shoulder. 

He breathed in slowly. The man’s scent, his desire.

And Ciel tensed. Almost too softened to react to the risk, his mind still quiet, still rippling from the hungry whisper in his ear, but he could feel the insistent press of his teacher’s cock, a pulse between their bodies. A need so hot, so overwhelmingly obvious that he almost shrank away from it, pinned between the man’s weight and the desk.

‘Shit.’ A whisper, muffled in his teacher’s shoulder.

'Shit,' Sebastian echoed, and he stepped away from the boy.

He ran a hand through his hair, and thought quickly. Shit. If that person had come by just a few minutes earlier, it would have been obvious. He was close, too close to being found out. He felt the pressure at the front of his trousers recede. 

He threw a look at the clock. Twenty-five more minutes, fuck. It wasn't a completely hard limit; it was his office, he was free to extend meetings. But the longer it took, the riskier it would become. Cleaning help came around 7 PM each night. Sometimes they came early. If he was not shown to be in an appointment as per his calendar, one of the other professors might come knocking before that. Every minute would be an additional risk.

Twenty-five minutes left, and all he'd done so far was tease the boy and take almost nothing for himself.

It had felt good to focus on him, though. The boy had been so cute and reactive. Mostly. Sebastian was not going to let the touching go unpunished, and he'd been disobedient from the start really, if out of ignorance than stubbornness. It had started when he'd taken off his tie without being prompted, and --

_Oh._

Sebastian gave the boy a hard look.

Twenty-five minutes. No time to waste on anything other than what he wanted.

'Turn around. Face the desk.'

Ciel blinked. And there it was again, a hardness in the man’s face, in his long clever eyes, surfacing like stones under water. They didn’t have much time left; he saw his teacher’s quick glance at the clock. But these shifts in mood were unsettling; quicksilver, and Ciel felt his mind stumble even as his skin shivered hot. 

‘Yes, _sir_ ,’ he said, with a touch of sharpness, and he slid off the edge of the desk. Pulled his shirt straight, and bent to flick deliberately at one of his stray buttons beside the lamp.

And he did as he was told. Turning to face the desk, and leaning his hands on it, leaning his thighs against it, and he looked back up at his teacher behind him.

‘You’d better get started, then. If you’re in such a hurry.’

Sebastian grabbed the boy. Pulled him up against him, his back to his chest. Gave him a rough shove and they both moved forward. He yanked at a shoulder and forced the boy to stand upright, his thighs pressed up against the desk. One hand in the boy's hair, and he pulled. Hard.

'I want to make one thing very clear,' Sebastian said. Lowly. 'I've been very, very generous with you. You've disobeyed. Repeatedly. You've been snarky. And I let you get away with it all. Even made you whimper and moan like a cash-starved whore. But that's over now. Remember who's in control. I'll take as much or as little time as I like. Your body is _mine_ until this ends.'

He ground his semi against the boy's bare arse. In between the cheeks, just one slow grind. He stilled after. He would not lose control again.

'And if you don't behave, well... I told you I'd fuck you raw. And there's another way to take that, too, and ah.... that might just be the one I choose.' He pulled the boy's head to the side and looked at the long line of his neck. 'Understand?'

Ciel winced. ‘I didn’t--’

He swallowed the words. He wouldn’t protest like a spoilt child; he’d agreed to play. And he’d promised this-- promised he’d give his time, an hour. And his body for his teacher’s pleasure. 

He was here because he'd wanted the man to fuck him.

Ciel closed his eyes, feeling the cock pressing hard behind him. His professor’s breath hot down the side of his neck. It sank deep in his bones, the nearness. The quick low fury of it.

‘Yes.’ It rose at the end, a break. Ciel hated it. ‘Yes, sir.’ More steadily.

'Better,' Sebastian said. 'But not good enough.'

He took a step back, and took a second to look at the boy. His slim back, the tattered shirt ending just above the swell of his rump. 

'When I touched you... you pushed your hands up my shirt. What makes you think you can touch me freely? Little slut. Did you think I was one of your Tinder hook-ups, hmmm?'

And he reached for the tie that the boy had placed on the desk. Pulled it taut between his hands, grabbed the boy's arms and pulled them back. Roughly. 'You give me no choice but to make sure you don't do that again.'

 _Oh shit._ Ciel knew enough not to say it, only to press his lips together and let his arms be dragged into place. _Oh shit, shit--_ The pull of the tie tugged tight around his wrists. He made a sound in his throat, narrowing his eyes at the desk in front of him. The back of his legs were chilled. Adrenaline, and he hoped his hands weren't shaking.

‘I wanted to touch you.’ Quietly. 'I'm sorry, sir.'

'You'll get what you want.' Sebastian tied the boy's wrists together swiftly. Pulled them tight. And a little tighter than absolutely necessary. 'When I say you can.'

Then he grabbed the boy by the back of his head and pushed, roughly, until the boy's face was against his desk with Sebastian's hand in his hair and he loomed above him and looked down and his belly quivered.

_This._

Oh, yes. This.

A bone-deep thrill.

He touched the boy's face with one hand. Almost gently, now, his cheeks, his chin. His lips. 

He pushed two fingers against his mouth. 'Suck.'

Ciel flinched, his cheek pressed hard to the desk. His hair was hurting, the man’s fingers wound tightly in it. Holding him still. The edge of the desk sharp across his stomach. But the touch at his lips was so soft. 

Ciel closed his eyes. Feeling the pulse of arousal between his hips. 

And he let his teacher push his fingers into his mouth, and he sucked them. Obediently. Running his tongue over them, smooth nails and cool skin, and the grip of the man’s hand was hard enough in his hair to bring a sting of tears to his throat.

Sebastian wanted to hurt him more.

A pity, really, that he couldn't go very far with physically hurting this boy. That would be loud. He couldn't quite have him screaming. But oh, he was getting in the mood to make him...

Thankfully there were ways to hurt him that were relatively quiet.

He pushed his fingers in deeper. Careful not to touch the palate. Into the throat, and he pressed.

Ciel gagged. Swallowed, and his eyes were watering. The man’s fingers pressed hard on the back of his tongue. Fuck. _Fuck_ \-- 

He swallowed again and the ache in his throat tensed through his neck, his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes tighter. They stung hotly.

He grunted, a low sound around the cruel fingers.

And he’d have to relax if he was going to get through this. Slowly. First his hands, clenched behind him-- he uncurled them. And sighed. Softened. His neck, his throat.

Sebastian pressed in his fingers once more, as deep as he dared -- and then unceremoniously removed them.

With the other hand, he grabbed the boy's arse, pulled one cheek to the side. He didn't look at it, though, but kept his eyes trained on the boy's face. His eyes. 

One finger? Or two? 

He listened. The corridor outside was silent. He didn't keep a clock that ticked in his room so he heard nothing but the boy's breathing, and his own, and if he listened closely enough, the beat of his own heart.

It was beating hard and fast. Excited. But a different kind of excited. He circled the boy's hole with his fingers. Gently. Felt the quiver, the rough skin, smooth under his wet fingers. His other hand still gripped the boy's hair. Held him firmly in place.

Ciel shivered at the touch, the fingertips. He wasn’t ready. Did his teacher really expect him to simply take it in silence?

He didn’t have time to ask. To protest, to think, because he felt the man’s hand pressing close.

'I'll be rough,' Sebastian said, his voice gentle. Quiet. 'I'll be rough, and you'll take it. You'll take it all. And God forbid if you scream...'

Sebastian chose two.

And the boy stilled beneath him. Clenched his teeth together, but he couldn’t stifle the noise he made behind them. ' _Ah_ \--'

 _Oh God_ , Sebastian thought. The boy's walls were hot. Tight, so tight, clenching around his fingers. And the noise he made --

He stilled his fingers inside the boy. Half inside. His hand in the boy's hair loosened.

The boy's pain pleased him, but he had to get him loose and ready. Pain would have to be infrequent. Little bursts of it rather than a long flow. Sebastian would still have his fun. He'd make sure of it.

'Shhh.' His hand trailed down across the boy's shoulders to his back. Soothing circles. 'Let me in.' A press with his fingers inside the boy, just a nudge to go in deeper. 

Ciel’s legs were shivering. But the man’s stroking hand down his back made his neck hot. And his cheeks, his belly. His teacher’s body was a shadow against the window light; the lean line of his arm, the dark eyes watching him intently. 

Ciel breathed out, a shaky sigh. Trying not to tighten around the firm nudge of his teacher’s fingers. Trying to calm his pulse, and the clench of his body. 

‘ _Fuck_ you.’ It felt good to say it, a sharp whisper. 

Sebastian stilled.

He took a step forward, leaned over the boy. Then pressed against him, his chest against the boy's back. He grabbed the boy by the back of his neck. Squeezed. He brought his mouth close to his ear and said, 'Oh. I didn't quite hear.' He pushed in his fingers as deep as they could go and held them in there and held the boy in place. 'What did you just say?' 

Ciel couldn’t breathe. Held between the man’s weight and the piercing burn of his fingers. The dangerous hush in that low voice beside him.

And he was being pinned by the scruff like a fucking cat and if he said it again--

He couldn’t.

He gasped. 

‘Nothing.’ Ciel squeezed, his whole body. Shivering. ‘Nothing, sir.’

'Good,' Sebastian said with an exhale. He released his hold on the boy's neck and lifted himself up on the desk, hovered over him. 'But I think you said something very bad. Something you shouldn't say to your teacher... I should keep your mouth occupied.'

He got to his feet then. Slowly pulled his fingers out of the boy's body, hooked one hand beneath the boy's tied arms and pulled him to his feet gently.

Slowly, Sebastian nudged open the button on his trousers. Then unzipped them.

He met the boy's eyes and smiled. 

'Kneel,' he said, and finally pulled it out. Half-hard still, but growing even at this simple touch. 'Get your professor's cock wet.'

Ciel stood uncertainly, his breath still ragged. He’d never felt so naked as this, his shirt hanging open and trousers around his knees and hands pulled uselessly back. 

And the professor looked oh, too composed, too dressed, even with his hand unzipping, and Ciel met the man’s gaze steadily. That smile, damn him. But he wanted to look. He’d seen the picture, he’d seen and wondered, wanting--

He looked. 

At the man’s hand reaching in to grasp himself, the length of his teacher’s cock. Oh shit. Long even half-hard, thick against the slim fingers. 

Ciel cleared his throat. His back flushed with heat.

He knelt, a flop onto his knees, awkward. Unbalanced. And turned his face upwards.

‘Alright.’ A whisper.

Sebastian looked down at the kneeling boy and exhaled heavily. The boy was always easy on the eyes, but right now, he was nothing short of stunning. 

A beautiful youth at the cusp of adulthood, skin still plump and baby smooth. Sebastian saw the boy's youth more clearly than at any time before now. He was all large doll eyes and rosy cheeks against pale, unblemished skin. But his youth was in more than just his looks: he was radiating it. That innate sense of curiosity particular to children that came with a natural gift for appreciating the absurd and a lust for mischief. The excitement, right there, in how he'd look at Sebastian's cock. The wonder.

So young, this one. So young. 17 whole years younger than Sebastian, a mere child compared to him, on his knees. For him to use and do with as he liked. 

_Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; youth like summer morn, age like winter weather..._

Sebastian felt himself reaching full hardness. He sighed.

And took a step forward, rubbing himself a few more times before pointing it at the boy's face. He brought one hand to the boy's temple and stroked it tenderly.

'You know what to do.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yeah, SURPRISE!
> 
> We were going to post a separate sequel story for this AU, but then decided to just post it all in a third chapter to the existing fic. Needless to say, there will be a fourth. And possibly a fifth. We're pretty into this AU.
> 
> Thank a lot for reading! The next chapter is already written and should be up soon.
> 
> Any predictions on what will happen next?
> 
> DOES CIEL KNOW WHAT TO DO?
> 
> Find out next class... ;)
> 
> ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the fourth class of Ethics 101! 
> 
> Get some snacks, your beverage of choice, and settle in. It's a long one. ~~That's what she said~~
> 
> It's also the most graphic smut that either of us has ever written. Oh dear.

Ciel looked from the man’s cock to the steady dark eyes above him, and back again. The thickened shaft and the glossy swell of the head.

He curled his bound fists tightly.

He knew what to do. But he was much too helpless like this-- he couldn’t balance himself, couldn’t brace himself against the man’s knees. There was no other choice but to let himself be guided by the warm hands at his temple, at his chin. He had to trust that his professor would not be cruel. 

But his body still stung from the press of the man’s greedy fingers. 

His breath hitched. He knew the man might be cruel and he had to open anyway.

Ciel licked his lips slowly. And parted them.

He took his teacher’s cock into his mouth. The smooth head of it. Hard, silk-fine, the taste more delicate than the heavy scent. His own cock stirred, bare between his thighs. He ran his tongue around the tip. A wet curl until it was slick enough to take it deeper,  further into his mouth, tilting up his chin to ease the slide, and he raised his eyes again to his teacher’s.

Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off of the boy. Sucking his cock so obediently, looking up at him with his gigantic blue eyes. He looked like a school boy like this. No older than sixteen.

Sebastian sighed, and it was nothing but utter gratification. He had been so aroused, too aroused for so long. Every lick sent sparks of pleasure that curled in his hips. He was itching with the need to move, to abandon all control and fuck into the slick velvet of the boy's mouth, but he held himself back.

It was too enjoyable, to see this delicious youth do his best to please him. To see him struggle with his lack of balance and Sebastian's size, and soldier on anyway. Completely accepting of the fact that nothing and none of this was under his control.

'Good.' Sebastian's hands slid from the boy's temple over his cheeks to his neck. Even through his sleeves, he felt the boy's hot breath against his arm. He curled his fingers at the back of his neck. Traced the line of his jaw with his thumb. 'Good. Good boy. You're doing so well. Just like that. A little deeper when you're ready. Hmm.' 

Ciel’s skin quivered. At the touch, the words, _ good boy _ and he wished he could pull himself away. He wished he didn’t want this but he did and shit,  _ shit, _ he’d break himself to pieces to hear that again-- 

He tried. He loosened his throat and stifled the need to gulp. And kept his breathing steady. He couldn’t afford to gag now and there was no way to move-- he couldn’t grip the man’s cock and run his tongue down the length of it, couldn’t make the smooth rhythm that would bring another hungry grunt to his teacher’s lips. He could only open and give his body softly.

Sebastian gave a low grunt, and his fingers tightened in the boy's neck. 'God. You're the sexiest little thing.'

Ciel swallowed. His shoulders ached. He tried to relax again and allow the heavy thing deeper but it tickled, he was going to choke, and if he sputtered now he’d never be able to breathe around the press of his teacher’s cock. He winced. His eyes stung. It would be easier to close them. But the man was watching him.

And Ciel blinked, feeling the hot squeeze of tears in his lashes. His fingers were shaking.

He hummed, high and panicked.

Sebastian felt breathless as he watched the boy. How much he struggled and how fucking  _ determined _ he was to do it anyway. Shuffling awkwardly on his knees, tense and shaking. Swallowing and quivering and tightening around Sebastian's cock. And his eyes, wet and glistening, and oh. 

_ Oh _ .

Sebastian had expected that there might be some tears. They happened. He had imagined the boy crying if he took him a bit too roughly. He'd imagined him crying in frustration. Possibly even in shame. But crying from choking himself on his dick in steely, blind determination?

Another image came to him. A memory. Another child's wet eyes.

Sebastian shook his head and took a step back. His cock popped out of the boy's mouth. He slid his hand to the boy's chin and ran a thumb over his wet lips. 'Oh, sweet boy.' Only half-mockingly; Sebastian didn't like it. 'I said, 'when you're ready.'' 

He lifted his cock and let the length of it fall over the boy's face, thick and dark against the boy's flushed pale skin. 

'Just get it wet. Spit.'

Ciel flushed. The man’s cock lay warm and heavy on his cheek. He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes. And tilted his chin to lick, suckling softly at the underside of the shaft, sliding his mouth down until the rounded head rested at his lips again.

His teacher’s hand had been so gentle over his mouth. He could feel the dampening heat behind his knees, under the shivering swing of his own arousal, and didn’t dare look up again. He spat, a dribble over the raw red tip of his professor’s cock, and dragged the slick over the hot skin with his tongue. A long lick up the shaft as he arched on his knees.

The boy's eager little mouth felt good, working at him as well as he could restrained like this. But Sebastian was distracted. So strange to see the boy go on kamikaze on his cock, and at such a gentle prompt, too. Kamikaze. Japanese for 'the wind of the Gods.' It had been intentional, driven by something; what had inspired it? What was going on in his head? 

_ Hnn. _ That hot slick tongue. The slow drag of gravity on the drops of saliva. It ran down along his cock; he felt it drip onto his balls, too, and lower.

But there was no time to enjoy this for much longer. Sebastian didn't want to look at the clock again, not yet, but he knew he wouldn't like what he saw. He had to move this along.

His thumb slid up to the boy's cheek, and higher, to below his eye. He moistened the tip of his finger with the boy's tears, and rubbed them into his skin languidly.

'That's enough.' He pulled the boy to his feet, helping him with his balance. Wordlessly, he reached around the boy's torso and undid the tie's knot at his back with a few swift movements of his fingers. 'Take off your shirt. And your trousers.'

Ciel flexed his freed hands. They were half-numb, hot and stiff, and he glanced up at the man beside him as he shook himself out. And looked away again. 

Undressing is easy. Ciel wasn’t afraid of nudity. But under those keen and careful eyes it was a different thing, without the usual excited scuffle in a half-dark room or the impatient flustered shove of hands under clothing. He rubbed his hands together slowly. His professor’s office didn’t seem an appropriate place to take  _ anything _ off, now that he was calm again. And the man was watching him, and Ciel knew what was coming next. They both did.

His shirt was open anyway; Ciel slipped it from his shoulders and lay it over the back of his teacher’s chair. His neck felt blazingly hot. And then he had to take off the rest, all shuffled to his knees already, and he scuffed off his shoes first. And socks. And then his trousers, underwear, and he left them on the floor beside the desk. 

And looked back up at his teacher, an attempt at steadiness.

Sebastian watched the boy's movements very carefully and took in every bit of new skin revealed. Everything he hadn't seen yet: the rosy nipples, the full line of his abs, his shapely legs when he raised them, one after the other, to shed the skin of his trousers.

Beautiful. Truly. 

His cock twitched, and Sebastian stifled a frustrated groan.  _ Shit. _ An image flitted through his mind: himself, pushing the boy against the desk. Shoving himself inside, through the tight, shuddering clench,  _ rough _ , and it would hurt the boy, and perhaps himself, too, but he'd keep going anyway, and perhaps he'd even  _ scream  _ \--

But no. 

Instead, Sebastian opened a drawer. He wouldn't be using any of these things after all -- there was no time, and no way to fit them in. He had enough in there to entertain himself with this boy's body for days, but he didn't have days. Only rapidly decreasing minutes. Moments.

His searching hand found the bottle of lube. Opened it. Spread the cool liquid all over his fingers.

He gave the boy a sudden push with his other hand, and moved forward, forward, until he had the boy where he wanted him again, spread out on his desk, and Sebastian moved between his legs and ground his cock against his hip --  _ oh _ , the slick slide of it, the hot skin of his thigh, the lubrication from the boy's spit...

Sebastian sighed. Closed his eyes. 

And leaned down, to the boy's neck. To his ear. His body slid a little lower. He ground forward. Slick against the boy's thigh.

'Let's do this...  _ hnn _ . Properly, shall we?' A wet finger trailed up on the boy's thigh to his balls. And beneath them, circling his hole. Did it still sting? 'I promised I'd make it good for you, and as I told you.. I don't lie.'

Ciel shivered. He whispered. ‘I know.’ And he believed it, he knew his teacher would  _ know _ how to make it good. He could hear it in the low voice, heavy with desire. The sharpening of the man’s dark eyes. The hungry slide of the hand between Ciel's parted legs.

Sebastian slid one slick finger inside, and let out a small moan. The boy felt soft around the single wet finger, but so hot and tight. His cock pulsed, hard and demanding against the boy's leg.

Ciel flinched at the burn of the delicate rim. ‘God, ahh--’ He caught at his teacher's shirt, breathing sharply. And tipped his hips, a slow roll forwards to the wet finger, the grind of the cock hard at his thigh.

Sebastian would have his student. It was only moments now. Just a little more. Just a little more.

'Oh yes. Hmm. That's good.' Lowly, against the boy's ear. A strand of the boy's hair fluttered with his exhale. 'Relax. Let me in. You're doing so well. Beautifully. It's almost time.' He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the boy's neck. He shuddered as a spark of pleasure shot through his groin at a particularly gratifying rub against the boy's body. 'You'll be a good boy and please me. Open up for me. Nicely, softly. Won't you?'

‘Yes--’ Ciel arched against the warm lips on his skin, rocking his body into the man’s hand. And his professor’s thickened cock pressed so firmly into his leg, an insistent pulse that stirred in his own blood.

‘Yes,  _ hnn _ \--’ He pushed his hand down between their bodies to grasp himself, the shudder of his arousal catching in his throat, and then he could breathe. He could squeeze himself and let the stir of pleasure uncoil in his spine, hot down his back. Soft around his teacher’s finger.

‘Yes, sir...’

_ Oh, _ Sebastian thought.  _ These delicious fucking reactions _ . So sensitive, so needy again. Sebastian could see it, and feel it, too, in the shivers that went through his little body. Shit. He couldn't wait. It was too much. He needed to take this quivering boy. Bury himself to the hilt. He had to --

Not ruin this.  _ Focus. _ Sebastian closed his eyes, stilled his hips, and scrounged up the last rapidly-withering bits of his self-control. Just a little more. Just a little, tiny bit more. It was necessary.  _ Fuck _ necessary. But it  _ was _ necessary. Shit. Fucking  _ wait _ .

'God.' Another hot kiss to the boy's neck, and he panted out a low, 'I want you.'

A second wet finger pressed at the entrance, not yet entering. The fingers on his other hand dug into the boy's waist, held him in place.

'I want you. And I have wanted you for or a while. Months. Since the first time I saw you, at the start of the semester. Sitting near the front. Studiously taking notes. Dressed for an interview or a mob deal. Serious face with watchful eyes.  _ Curious. _ A..  _ hnn _ ... good student. A good student, looking at his professor. Ever so subtly.' His second finger pressed more insistently. 'And the professor looked, too. At his student. And thought about many bad things, like bending him over his desk and ramming into him until he screamed. And he didn't just think about it once. Or twice. No. In his head, the professor broke his professional vows almost every time he saw the student. Certainly every time they spoke. But he would never have broken them -- if he hadn't sent -- and then if he hadn't  _ seen _ \--'

Sebastian groaned. Lifted his head. Searched for the boy's eyes and went lower, lips close. 

He breathed against the boy's lips. 'He wouldn't have. But this was then, and this is now, and now... there is nothing on earth that is going to stop him from putting his cock into his little student. Right  _ there _ .'

And he slipped in a second finger.

Ciel moaned. Bit off the sound, and there was no way to hide how much he wanted it. He felt himself harden in his own grip, a tremor through his legs. 

Of course he’d looked at his professor. They all had, Ciel had heard them all talking after class-- in the hallways, in the cafeteria. Most of the girls. Many of the boys--  _ Professor Michaelis _ , whispered over the cheap black coffee.  _ Oh my fucking God, and have you seen his bike? _

Ciel hadn’t paid much attention to the bike. Only the man behind the desk in the lecture hall, his fine mouth and dangerous beautiful eyes. The way he walked. The way he leaned back in his seat, too comfortably, and looked at them all. His quick mind, his stories, pulling them all along with him on another dizzying tangential trip; his velvet voice, a sigh over Ciel’s skin.

Ciel moaned again, breathy. Those glances had burned him, but surely the man had known it wasn’t allowed.  _ This _ wasn’t allowed.

_ I want you. _ Oh fuck, fuck--

If Ciel tipped up his chin, if he put out his tongue he could lick right across the man’s parted lips. But his teacher had been upset when Ciel touched him.

He moved his other hand, instead, down to the hand sliding between his legs. Closing his fingers around the man’s wrist.

‘Please--’ Ciel raised his eyes to the hungry dark ones above him. His hands were shivering. ‘Do it, please--’

The boy's moans were hot against Sebastian's mouth. Moist gusts of breath, breaking over his lips. So close. Too close. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of the boy's mouth. Licked at the corner of his mouth, and a long sweep of his tongue from the boy's lower lip to the top. Hot breath fused together, muffled sounds. This willing, ready mouth beneath him. 

The boy's hand on his wrist. Touching him without permission, again. But Sebastian didn't care, not when he was so sweet about it. 

Do it now? Yes. Yes. This had been going on too long. Sebastian's cock had started to fucking  _ ache _ . There was no time for slow, languid preparation, of teasing fingers across the little bump on the boy's front wall, no time to get him loose enough for a smooth slide in. 

He slid his fingers out of the boy. Kept his fingertips there for a few more moments, felt the hole flutter around nothing.  _ Ah _ . And his hands slid down the boy's thighs and spread them wider, made room for his hips, and he moved in, hooked them around his waist and forwards --

His cock settled between the boy's cheeks. The tip against the slick hole. Sebastian felt it quiver, and thought,  _ if I don't fuck him now, I might just die. _

'Oh. Oh fuck.' A press forward. The skin gave way beneath him, but didn't open. ' _ Hnn _ .'

He reached for the lube. Squeezed some more of it onto his palm. Moved his hips back just an inch to slather it all over his cock, rubbing it in from the tip to the base. Gave himself a few more rubs, enjoying the smooth glide. He moved forward again. A poke against the boy's upper thigh, a glide of the tip over his balls, and down, down, against the hot hole, and  _ oh _ , it was so much more pliant now, he could feel it, it would take nothing at all, only a little  _ push _ \--

Sebastian inhaled. And exhaled. His fingers shook. His heart raced. He was still alive.

'Beg.' Gentle breath over the boy's lips. A rough press against his hole. 'Beg for your teacher's cock.'

‘Please.’ Ciel gasped. The shove against his hole was cool, wet with a slick of lube and he shuddered. ‘ _ Please _ , sir.’ He gripped himself hard and his body tightened around the emptiness. He wanted it inside him, the pulse of heavy flesh that was pressing against him, too close to be anything other than torment. He wanted to grab the man’s collar and pull him close and bite him, bite down on his teacher’s lip and breathe the words into his mouth.

Ciel’s hands ached. His fingers, his throat. He couldn’t touch him again. He could feel his professor’s hands shaking against his parted thighs, the tremble of the warm body under his knees.  _ Beg.  _ How could the man still be waiting?

He raised his head to glance down-- his cock in his own hand, the flushed shaft of his professor’s hardened arousal tucked between their bodies. He felt the press of it.

‘God, I can’t--’ Ciel dropped his head back onto the desk. He groaned. Bumped his hips forward, desperate for friction, for the push inside him. His belly was tight with the need of it. ‘Just do it. Please, oh fuck, fuck,  _ please _ \--’

This was it, then. Sebastian placed his hands on the boy's waist. Held him in place. The boy's pale skin dipped in around the hard press of his thumb. 

This was it.

A slow grind of his hips forward. He felt the hole shudder against him, but the angle wasn't right. He retreated again. Slid one hand down along the boy's heaving belly to his own cock, and positioned it. He locked it right there, in a straight line between their bodies, and paused.

_ And today, I become a lesser man. According to them, anyway. _

The rules were very clear. Students were to be seen as scholars, not as potential sexual partners. Ridiculous, really. They all thought of it anyway. He saw it in their faces, and a beer or three was often enough to loosen the tongue. But it was in that golden book, The Faculty Handbook, so it had to be the truth. Academic integrity and abuse of power and all that.

_ I don't give a fuck. Look at him now. Look at him, look at this boy, he's begging for it. Are you still judging? Would it not be far more cruel to deny him? What kind of monster would I be, to deny him when he's like this, hard and shivering and aching and desperate for me on my own desk? My desk, in my office. In your very halls. Right in front of your nose. You should have seen this coming, really. But you didn't. Idiots. Idiots. But none of that is even the best thing. You let me get to this place. You let me be an ethics professor.  _ **_Me_ ** _. _

A low chuckle.

And Sebastian pushed in.

Smoothly. Slowly.

Firmly. 

The tip, the head.

_ More. _

The shaft. One speed. One uncompromising slide.

_ More. _

All the way, and his hips stilled.

Ciel hissed as the plump head pushed into him, past the ache of muscle where every instinct screamed for him to tense. 

And into the edge of pleasure. His cock pulsed in his grip.  _ Oh God I’m ready for this- _

He grunted.  _ No I’m bloody not.  _ His body seized in one long shudder. 

‘Fucking hell--’ Ciel thumped his fist on the desk. His noise was just a squeak in his throat this time. And the bastard had been about to fuck him without lube.

Sebastian grit his teeth. Fuck. Fucking tight as a glove. A steady press all around him. Sucking him in or, no. Pushing him out. The walls were tense, resistant. Hard. As was the boy’s entire body, stiff with it. 

Pained.

_ Hnn. _

Sebastian supported himself on an elbow to hover over the boy. His grip was gentle when he grasped the boy's chin, and tilted up his face.

'Relax.' He trailed his hand down to the boy’s chest and lower, along his side. He felt the tension beneath, the brim of it against his hand. He pressed his full palm against it. 

Ciel flinched. His teacher’s hand was a warm slide down his chest.  _ Relax, oh fuck, easy for you to say--  _ And he was too full to breathe, burning too tight to even wriggle under the weight of the man’s hips.

Sebastian leaned in until their noses touched. His lips just a breath away from the boy's.

'Open.' And he kissed the boy hungrily, open-mouthed.

Ciel arched up into it. Open, aching, and his moan was lost in the breath between them.

His hand uncurled from his cock and caught at the front of the man’s shirt. 

Sebastian grasped the boy's neck firmly and angled his head. He pushed his tongue past the slide of his wet lips into his mouth, licked at the boy's tongue, and withdrew. Leaned in a little harder and pushed it in deeper. 

Sebastian's cock throbbed. He could feel it, tightly sheathed inside the boy's hot body. His hips started to twitch, tiny forward movements. 

_ Oh God. It's too good. It waited too long. All that teasing, I can't -- _

A groan, hot into the boy's mouth. And he broke the kiss to speak, against the boy's mouth. 'You feel so good.' A press of his hips. 'So good.' Another. 'Let me fuck you.'

‘Not yet--’ Ciel whispered it. His cock shivered against his belly, abandoned, and without the building stir of friction he was too aware of the burn in his body, the small shift of his teacher’s cock inside him.

He didn’t want to stop though, God, not  _ now _ , not this close, but he was pinned by the heavy cock, by the grip on his neck. By the lap of his teacher’s lips on his, the broken breaths.

_ Shit, this is happening, and he wants it, and I-- _

'Fuck it--' Ciel relaxed his hips. His spine on the hard desk. And his mouth, soft around the push of the man’s hot tongue.

He let go of his teacher’s shirt, crumpled in his hot fingers, and braced his hand on the desktop beside him. He rolled his hips, a breathless fraction. 

And felt the flare of pleasure.

‘Ahh, just-- just move,  _ please _ \--’

Sebastian felt a shudder go through the boy. The boy's insides quivered, sweetly, and released some of the iron grip on his cock. The tight pressure melted into something just a tiny bit softer, and Sebastian grunted helplessly, against the boy's lips.

Fuck. He'd been in enough tight wet holes that this shouldn't feel so overwhelming. The wait had been too long.

He grabbed the boy's wrist and pinned it to the desk. Found his purchase, his balance, his angle. And he pulled back, slowly, feeling the slide, the head of his cock slipping lower. He held it there for a breathless moment.

_ If I move, I won't stop. _

He could no longer give a fuck.

Sebastian pushed in, slowly.  _ Fuck. _ His mouth went limp against the boy's mouth. Hovering over him breathlessly. And he pushed in again, and the pleasure was too much, and it was everywhere, curled in the pit of his loins with its tendrils reaching up all the way to his fingertips. He tightened his grip around the boy's wrist. Felt the bones.

'Fuck.' He chased the thrust with another, less gentle, and this one was even better, slick and smooth and it felt so good he only half-heard himself moaning.

‘Nhn.’ Ciel shuddered. And gasped, ‘Oh God, that’s-- hnn.’

The man was pulling back again, a slide, and Ciel forced himself not to squeeze. He let his hips tilt with the movement. Rocking under the shift.

It dragged inside him, hot and smooth, and thick, oh fuck, and Ciel’s ears thumped with his pulse. His skin felt tight, buzzing. He curled up his fist and the tendons strain under his teacher’s grip, pressed to the desk. But the man hanging over him was almost limp with pleasure. He was moaning. His curses sighed over Ciel’s mouth. 

Ciel gazed up at his narrowed dark eyes. The parted lips. His teacher was so deep, so shameless in his own enjoyment, like a child licking syrup from his fingers. Moving so hungrily. Feeling each stroke.

Ciel’s cock twitched over his bare skin. How could the man’s desire burn him like this? Stirring his insides as surely as the swollen cock, as sweet, as heavy--

‘Fuck.’ Ciel muttered, helpless. ‘ _ Fuck _ .’

The heat. The delicious glide.  _ Oh yes. More. _ A hard push. They were moving up the desk, Sebastian and the hot body beneath him, and there was a  _ thunk _ , something fell. A flutter. Paper, documents.

Sebastian licked at the lips beneath him, then moved down over smooth skin. A chin. Sebastian had his tongue out. Saliva everywhere, slick. Down, over bone, over a curve, and there was a warm nape. Sebastian smelled sweat, and he moved. Found hot skin. Licked, and tasted salt. 

His hips kept moving. 

In.  _ Oh _ . In.  _ Oh. _ In.  _ Oh _ \--

He tightened his hand on the boy's wrist. A grunt. And he pulled in the skin with his teeth, fit his canines into it, and bit down.

Ciel groaned. ‘Don’t-- oh _ fuck _ \--’ He wriggled. Gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what he was saying. Only that he burned. The bite stung through him, his teacher’s sharp mouth. It pooled in his hips, a pulse as hard as the plunging cock. It was so hard to be quiet. He was spread too wide, nothing to grip, and his knees clenched around the man’s hips.

The lamp was shuddering. The  _ desk _ was shuddering, fuck it, hard beneath him, and Ciel reached his other hand up above his head. Searching for the edge, something to hold. Too far away, the desk was too wide.

‘Ah, shit--’ Of course the man would want to do it here, his desk, his office. In the middle of his work. It was a terrible idea. It was perfect.

A sheaf of files collapsed beside Ciel’s head, a slide at his shoulder. Ciel grunted. 

In the middle of his teacher’s paperwork. 

The man even had a framed picture of himself, it was sitting behind the pens there. Himself, his bike. Of course. Amidst the clutter of the other things, other photos, a cluster tucked beside the computer. There was a girl. A photo of a teenage girl, slim and dark and beautiful as the man beside her-- the man bent over Ciel-- a photo with a tent, oh fuck it wasn’t--

Ciel closed his eyes. There was nothing about this that wasn’t wrong. He arched against his professor’s mouth.

Sebastian sucked at the skin. Hard. Pulled it into his mouth and chewed on it. He wanted to go deeper. Bite harder.  _ Eat _ him. Consume him --

Ciel moaned at the nip on his skin. It was  _ hard _ , the teeth grinding his skin, a slow ache straight down his spine, and shit, that would  _ bruise _ , he'd have to cover it, his flatmate would see it-- He didn't want to think. It was better not to think. About what they were doing, and where they were, and what would happen if anyone found them fucking in the college office--

More noises. Shuffles. Gasps. The boy was cursing. Grunting. And there was something about noise… Sebastian released the skin and licked his way upwards again. Bit into the sharp line of the boy's jaw and up, to his mouth. He breathed against it, searched for words. 

Found none. 

He looked at the boy's eyes, large and blue, thick lashes, beautiful. Fucking beautiful, this boy. Felt good everywhere. Especially --

'Oh. Oh, yes.' That thrust had felt especially good. Sebastian rolled his eyes and slowed down a little, sensitive now, buried beneath an avalanche of pleasure. He felt himself throbbing impatiently. Too long. It had been  _ way too fucking long _ .

Noise. Something. The boy's mouth was right there.

Sebastian leaned in and pressed his lips to the boy's mouth and pressed down and opened it with his jaw and pushed in his tongue. Deep, and the movement made a mess of it, wet everywhere, and he slowed down his hips, buried his hand in the boy's hair, and did it again. Timed the thrust of his tongue with that of his hips. Fucking him on both ends, and  _ oh _ .

Sebastian let his weight sag down. There was a hard jut at his belly. He pressed down against it.

Silence, and Ciel’s legs were shivering. Wrapped around his teacher's warm hips. And his teacher was kissing him again. But it was good. Deep and hungry.  _ Oh. _ The man was very good at this. The way he moved, the feel of him. The slide of his hips. The heat of his mouth.  _ Very _ good, oh fuck, oh  _ fuck _ \--

Ciel couldn’t make a sound. They were all swallowed. He tried not to tense. The long strokes inside him were smooth now. Pressing deep as the tongue in his mouth. But the tip of his cock was snared in the crisp cotton of his teacher’s shirt, pinned between them. Rubbing lightly. A sharp impatience cutting through the swell of his pleasure, and he wanted his cock back in his fist. He wanted to cup himself properly, tighter and harder and the heat down his back was fierce.

Ciel tipped his head back, hard against his professor’s twining fingers. It was hard to concentrate. His mind was rippling, just the shudder of the cock inside him. Slower now. The plunge of the man’s tongue. The rhythm. Deep, suggestive. 

Hot and liquid, messy over Ciel’s chin. He parted his lips for the curling tongue, for the slide of it against his own. 

Sebastian was getting hot. He felt the sweat on his back, drenching his shirt. Felt a bead of it on his forehead, slick and hot. On his stomach, where he felt the hot flesh through his hot shirt. Too much.

He broke the kiss and let go of the boy's wrist. He braced himself against the desk, both hands flat against it, and lifted himself up. Brought some air between himself and the burning little thing beneath him. And he looked down.

At the boy's messy mouth. Wetness glistened on his chin. The angry bruise on his neck. Over his body, rigid. His cock. And lower. His spread legs. Smooth but tense long thighs. And up again, to where the boy's hips locked with his own, where he --

His hips slowed down even more. Even little strokes. He watched, transfixed. His own swollen cock. Wet and glistening with lube. Disappearing between the boy's legs. There one moment, gone the next. Swallowed up between the clench of this boy's arse. 

'Oh, fuck. It looks so hot, I can't --'

Ciel was shivering with air as though he’d been dragged from deep water, watching the roll of the man’s lowered lashes. The glisten at his temples. Wet parted lips, and Ciel wanted to run his fingertips over them. Between them. Or down the line of the man’s straining neck to the unbuttoned collar. 

The man was watching, watching himself, the movement between them, enjoying it, oh,  _ too _ much.

Ciel half-closed his eyes. Slower, the deep press of his teacher's cock. It was silent enough to hear above their heavy breaths. His own, his heartbeat. The slick filthy sound. Wet, delicious.

Ciel bit his lip and looked away. He was naked under the gaze, utterly. Helplessly. Spread under his teacher’s body. Opened. His palms burned. 

He shook out his fingers and gripped himself tight. The tremor flared in his back, in the hollow of his chest, and he gasped. Rolled his hips forward. Met the thickened slide of cock. His knuckles bumped his teacher’s hip, the warm rumple of shirt. Damp. And Ciel put out his other hand, pushing under the shirt again, pressing his palm to the heat of the man’s skin, the tension of his stomach.

Sebastian felt something warm on his skin. He felt himself tense automatically. The boy was touching him again, a hot smooth palm, eager little fingers. And the boy was touching himself, too, and Sebastian watched his hand move up and down along his shaft, squeezing at the tip. 

Yet he wasn't looking at Sebastian. He had his eyes turned to the side. Still shy, while he had his legs spread for his teacher. While he was rolling his hips forward for more. Shy and slutty at once.  _ Pretty cute _ ...

And he felt so good inside, too. The wet slide along. Oh God.

Sebastian grunted. Goddammit, but he still could not ignore this. The touching. It was the second time already. The boy still hadn't learned. Delayed punishment didn't seem to be the way to go. Time to change teaching methods...

Sebastian gripped the boy by the chin, turned the boy's face toward him and pressed his hand against his mouth. Hard.

'Do you... want to touch me...' It was too hard to speak. He had to stop. Thrusting forward once more, he buried himself to the hilt, and stilled his hips. 'Do you want to touch me that much?' He smiled. 'My. So eager. You know what, I'll allow it. You may touch me, up to the neck.'

He pressed down harder. Felt his palm get wet against the boy's mouth. He moved his other hand to the boy's waist, and dug in his nails. Held him in place.

'Take it, then. You eager little slut.'

And he withdrew, and thrust back in with a snap of his hips. Hard. He felt the force of it in the hand he had on the boy's waist.

'Take it.'

Another hard thrust. And another.

Ciel moaned. Muffled.  _ You may touch me.  _ He couldn’t. He clung to his teacher’s shirt. Both hands. Or he’d be pushed up the desk under the hungry shove of it, the man’s weight, his cock. The length of it. 

Was his teacher angry? The man’s eyes were heavy, dark. His beautiful mouth curved.  _ Oh God _ \--

Ciel closed his eyes. Long strokes. Filling him. Fierce inside him, and he knew he was shivering. Hot behind his knees. His thighs, the thickened shaft bare against his stomach. He breathed in and his throat stung with his stifled cries, his gulping. It still ached from the drag of the cock he’d tried to swallow.

Eager. Slut. Yes-- yes, he wanted this. Not so hard. Not again, not  _ yet _ . He couldn't move. But oh fuck, fuck.  _ Yes. _

No words got past the man’s hand. But they wouldn’t have been words anyway. 

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ His teacher’s fingers dug sharp at his waist. Each breath, each thrust. Ciel’s knees shook against the man’s sides. His throat seized. Deeper, breathy. Tight in his belly. In his chest, in time with the heavy strokes. A grunt of pleasure.

_ Shit. I'm close.  _ Sebastian felt it. Sharp and tight in his lower body, the first tease of the edge. He was hot, too, everywhere, damp at the small of his back, the moist heat of the boy's breath against his palm. 

His breath came out hard and ragged. Panting already, and he knew that sound. No surprise. 

It was so good.  _ Too good. _ Tight, hot, slick. The stretch of his teenage arse around his cock. Rougher now with the force of his own thrusts.

And Sebastian had let himself think about it, just for a second, about how hot and wrong it was what he was doing, nailing his student into his desk. Making the desk shudder. Restraining him. Controlling him. Just like Sebastian had imagined it. Just as he'd fantasized about. His student,  _ this _ student, beneath him, taking it, taking it so well. The one with the serious eyes. The silent, brooding one. The one whose scathing essays knew right from wrong.

_ And look at what I've done to you now... _

The thought was nearly enough to make Sebastian come. He held his breath, bit down on his lower lip -- and removed his hand from the boy's mouth to pull him forward, toward the edge of the desk. He hooked one hand under the boy's knee to lift up his leg, and with the other, pressed down on the boy's hips to make them tilt forward.

The new angle dulled the edge for a moment, a small respite, but then he thrust in, and  _ fuck _ , it was deeper like this. Perfectly angled to allow the deepest possible plunge. He pressed forward, forward, pulling the boy down on his cock. An endless oozing slide. Deeper, and finally he could go no deeper, but he pressed anyway. And he chased it with a thrust, hard and deep but slow. 

Sebastian felt every inch of it. The drag of the boy's skin along his entire length. Shit.  _ Still close. _

Ciel could gasp again. But this was dangerous. A wet thrust. He couldn’t be silent. Not like this, held open under his teacher’s hands. His knee was pinned back firmly.

Another thrust. A thump through his hips. Ciel pressed his hand to his own mouth. Deeper,  _ God. _ So full. Slow. Too slow to finish, too heavy to soften under, just hard enough to bring him brimming to the edge of frustration--

Ciel’s cock shuddered, swollen. 

The room was obscenely silent. Just the man’s ragged breaths. His own, a squeak. The rattle of the pencils on the desk. Ciel looked at his tucked-up leg, the white indent of his teacher’s thumb in the flesh. And at the gleam of the man’s dampened throat. And the lean face, tense with pleasure. The watchful eyes half-closed now. Focused. But lost, lost in this. In him. 

In the slide, oh  _ fuck _ . The dizzy heat of their bodies, his teacher’s body, strong hands and tightening lips. And hungry cock. Greedy dragging strokes. Hungry, and heavy, and good, too good, _ very _ good at this. His professor. Good at everything. Words. And fucking. And making him want it. More of it.

Ciel’s belly tightened.  _ Shit, no _ \-- He didn’t want to come. Not yet, not yet, the man wouldn’t stop for him--

An ease inside him. And the man pushed in again. An ache through Ciel’s body, throbbing in his belly. Sharp in his arse. Burning. Filling his skin and he pressed his lips together. But he could still hear himself. Under his hand his noise was continuous.

Sebastian wasn't going to last. There was no way. He could stop all movement and it still wouldn't help. He was past the point of no return. Only a few thrusts and he was almost coming again. Tension corded the muscles in his thighs. Made his toes twitch in his boots. Pressed out the breaths, hard and fast and rhythmic.

The boy was squeaking. Pressing his hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. Good boy, keeping quiet for him, letting himself be taken, even as his eyes widened and his body rippled with each thrust. Obedient until the end. 

' _ Oh. _ Fuck.' That had been a moan. Sebastian bit down on his lower lip, tried to stay quiet. ' _ Ah. _ ' Godamnit.

_ Fuck it. Let's finish this. _

And Sebastian gave up control, and what followed was nothing but fragments. Sounds, too loud, and he was moving. Down, and he had his mouth to the boy's shoulder, and he bit down. Groaned into it, roughly. The boy's hip was hot beneath his fingers. He scratched at the skin. Soft beneath his nails. Then a firm grip, and he angled the hot body beneath him, felt the hole tighten around him from this new angle, and oh. God.

In, in, in.

He was panting. Couldn't even bite anymore. Everything fell away. This was it. The end of everything. The ultimate goal. The instinct that drove everything.

To come inside a hot wet hole.

The pleasure built up higher. A flare that centered in his lower body but blazed out further. Just a little more. Almost. Almost.

'I'm coming.' Another thrust. One more was all it would take. 'I'm --'

‘Nhn.  _ Shit _ \--’ 

The bite pulsed through Ciel’s shoulder and this time there was no sharpness. No edge. Only a blur, a deepening bloom of pleasure. His skin stung with the feverish heat of the man’s breath, the brush of parted lips at his shoulder, his neck.

The moans, and his words, the man was finishing, pressing deep inside him--

‘Ah, God--  _ ah _ \--’

Ciel’s bare chest felt damp. His cock. Trembling, agonised. He bucked against his teacher’s hips. And again, but he was held too firmly. He felt it, the throb like the blood thumping in his ears. The dig of nails into his hip. 

And he felt the shiver through the man’s hot body, between his thighs, the collapse of some internal point. The break in his teacher’s breath, as familiar as the clench in his own body.

‘Fuck--’ Ciel lay still. Panting.

Sebastian collapsed on top of the boy.

And kept rolling his hips forward. 

Wetter, now. Gushy and spacious. 

And he was sensitive, now. Shivering with each small thrust. But he didn't want to pull out, not yet. Wanted to savor every last bit of it. He felt the boy's cock hard against his stomach. He shifted his weight up and wrapped his hand around it. His hand was so wet it slid down the shaft almost automatically. And up again, settling into a quick rhythm. 

'Fuck.' His throat hurt. His chin rested on the boy's shoulder. His vision came back slowly. The wooden desk. The dark patterns in it. He turned his face toward the boy's neck. His hips twitched forward once more, weakly, too slick around his softening cock. Just a little more.

'You're -- you're so wet, can you feel it? God. I'm swimming in you.'

‘Yes-- mhm,  _ God _ -’ Ciel tried not to think of it, the slick of cum. Strange, shudderingly wet. How much there must be. A slosh of heat, wet as the curl of a tongue, the liquid slide of the trembling cock. Puddled inside him. He didn’t  _ do _ this, he'd never let a man fill him like this--

‘It’s--  _ ahh _ \--’ Melting. And swelling between his hips. Fierce, unfocused, the waver of the sun through water. His hands ached, loose on the desk. 

And his professor’s fingers were tight around his cock. Quick, tight.

Ciel didn’t even feel the brink of pleasure, only the crash. He didn’t wait for it. 

He pushed his mouth into the curve of his teacher’s neck. The damp skin, the shirt-collar. Breathed in the salt scent of the man’s tired body. 

‘Please, please--’

He moaned. Pinned, pumped, and he rocked into the grip, the pulse of the cock still pushed inside him. Feeling himself squeeze around it, convulsing. Soft under the man’s hot body, his chest heaving against the weight. The buzz. The blinding heat in his eyes. 

‘Fuck yes-- Gasping. ‘Fuck, yes, _ please _ \--’

The boy was moaning. Gasping, and blubbering words, curses and pleas. Hot, but too loud about it all. Sebastian could kiss him again to shut him up. His mouth was right there, hot breath against his neck. They could kiss. It would be easy and efficient.

Sebastian didn't want to.

He leaned in and pressed his shoulder against the boy's mouth instead, until the sounds came out muffled. Hot even through the fabric of his shirt.

A small moan escaped him when he felt the boy contracting around him, squeezing around Sebastian's spent cock. The second contraction pushed him out. The air chilled on his wet cock. Unpleasant. He felt it curl up against his body, dripping.

The boy's cock was kicking. Wetness splashed against Sebastian's hand. He kept moving it up and down, more gently now. Squeezed. One more time, from the base to the tip. Squishy, softening.

And when he finally stilled, Sebastian allowed himself one weightless, thoughtless moment of oblivion. Like this, on top of this tasty boy, in their shared heat and scent. The slick sweat. He felt wet everywhere. Dirty. 

Wonderfully dirty.

'Good.' He breathed out the word shakily. He couldn't feel his bones anymore. There was static in his brain. 

And Sebastian picked himself up, one muscle at a time. He felt each one: leg, thigh, back, arms, shoulders, and he slid off and away and his feet were unsteady, he felt too heavy, and he stumbled back and his legs hit his chair, and he let himself fall, bonelessly.

And he slumped back and tucked his cock back into his trousers, shivered once when the sensitive head brushed against the fabric, and zipped himself up. And he stared at the ceiling. 

He thought of nothing. Mind as still as a lake. Rapid-fire neurons for once deactivated. A grid of turned-off electricity. Nothing.

Ciel lay quietly, eyes half-closed. Still rippling. Still panting. Feeling the tingle through his hands. Far away, hardly his fingers at all, burning. The evening light was a glow through his lashes.  _ Good.  _ That’s what he’d said. The professor. And fuck, oh fuck--  _ good.  _ The word was just noise. But that’s why words stop. Why there’s bodies instead, better than words. Is that why his teacher made sure he was good at this too? So he’d always have something to say. With words or not.

Good. Ciel sighed. Oh God, yes. Like nothing on earth.

And he tensed his stomach to sit up, and winced. He lay still again and flopped his arm over his face. That was warm, anyway. His own skin. 

He was flushed, damp. Chilled already, with the cold wooden desk under him.

There was a mess over his belly. His chest. Between his legs, and Ciel shuddered at the thought of pulling his clothes on over his sticky skin. But he’d have to, walking out of here, out of his professor’s office and down the front steps.

His shirt was missing buttons, too. The man had pulled it open; which had been hot as fuck but not such a clever idea now, now he was thinking about it. 

Ciel glanced over at his teacher, who was slumped low in his chair, oblivious. Rumpled. Quite beautiful. A different look; Ciel hadn’t seen it before on the man's face. Neither sharp nor cunning; a stillness. Another passing mood, of course. 

The sweat along Ciel’s thighs cooled. His body stung, oh fuck--- and he stretched his back. 

And raised himself on his elbow. And pulled himself upright, sitting on the edge of the desk. Feeling as naked as he was. Looking at the scatter of his clothes around the room. Trousers on the floor. Shirt on the chair behind his teacher’s head.

‘Christ.’ Weakly.

_ I'm starving, _ was the first thought that Sebastian managed to come back to after the precious few seconds of total oblivion.  _ I wonder what I have left in the fridge. _

Leftovers from last night, probably. Pumpkin barley risotto. Some soy milk, too, that probably hadn't gone bad yet. And he might allow himself a beer tonight and get on his couch and watch something stupid. A sitcom or one of those 20-minute comedy shows on Netflix, maybe. Lowbrow drivel that his brain usually provided a running commentary on logic and continuity errors on. 

Drivel sounded good right now. 

Good. He was feeling good all over. As if he'd gone on a long hike and then had a long shower and a few minutes in a hot steam room. Relaxed. He would feed his cat well tonight, too. Give him one of the gourmet cans, the ones with fish, maybe.

Someone spoke. A single word. Sebastian blinked and looked over and remembered where he was and what had happened, and shit.

His eyes swirled to the clock.  _ 6:14 PM. _ They were too fucking late,  _ shit. _

And the Phantomhive boy was a mess. Shaking legs, dazed eyes. He had cum all over his chest. And it had to be dripping out of him, too. On Sebastian's desk, and soon, his floor. Ugh.

The adrenaline jostled his brain back into action.

The chair swung around once when Sebastian got to his feet, movements not nearly as graceful as usual. He pulled open a drawer and placed a box of tissues on the desk. Then, he walked around the desk to take his laptop, and collapsed back on his chair with it. He placed it on his knees, opened the lid, and started typing. 

Shit. He had taken off his glasses. He could still see, but he had to squint.

'I'm going to extend our meeting by half an hour in my calendar. Until 6:30. Hopefully people will think to check it before they come knocking. But do get dressed quickly, please.'

‘I am,’ said Ciel. He didn’t move, though, not right away. His eyes were following the clatter of the man’s long fingers over the laptop keyboard.

Then he looked up at the clock, and reality lapped at his feet like a tide. It was later than it should be. He'd parked his car out on the street, too, and the bloody ticket was only paid up until 6:18.

He slid off the desk. His bare toes curled into the carpet.

The mess, fuck.

Ciel reached for the tissues. Dabbed quickly over his chest. His hip, arse, legs.

And how did his teacher manage to do that? Sitting there. Completely himself again, typing, his brows drawn together in a frown.

Ciel didn’t look over. Only a glance. 

He dropped the tissues into the rubbish bin beneath the desk; one, two. Three. Fuck, he wanted a shower. He shuffled on his underwear. And his trousers, a drag of superfine wool over his sticky thighs. It was exactly as irritating as he’d expected. He zipped. His fingers felt slow. Almost tipsy, that was the only comparison he could make. 

And his shirt was still over the back of the office chair, tucked behind his professor’s shoulder. 

Ciel paused beside the man. ‘Shirt.’

'Hold on,' Sebastian said, and finished the last click. He double-checked in his calendar, and took a deep breath. In. Out.

He blinked. The boy was by his side, looking at him expectantly.

'Shirt?' Oh right, something warm against his neck. He pulled it down. Long strings dragged along his shoulder. The buttons were all torn out. 'Well, that's a right fucking mess.'

Ciel wasn’t sure what he was supposed to answer. The shirt was a wreck; only the top two buttons were intact. He shook it out and laid it over the desk. His tie must be somewhere.

On the floor beside his shoes. 

Ciel crouched to pick it up. And straightened, smoothing the heavy silk damask between his fingers. It was creased, of course, from being knotted around his wrists. Bias-cut Italian silk. Worth more than his law textbooks.

He glanced back at his teacher. 

‘Well,’ he said deliberately. ‘The shirt is replaceable. You managed to ruin my tie, though.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I wouldn’t have bothered with a Turnbull & Asser if I’d known you were going to be rough.’

Sebastian had no idea what Turnbull & Asser was, but from the context it could only be a fancy status thing.

He chuckled. 'Hah. You must not have been listening very well, then... I didn't do anything I didn't warn you I might do. I didn't plan on ruining your shirt, but it's more exciting to let things come, isn't it?.' He sighed. 'Perhaps it will be best if you wear my shirt, though. It looks similar enough. It will be very big on you, but it should work if you tuck it in and hide it beneath the jacket. And I can wear one of the t-shirts I put on when I go for a run after work. No one will raise an eyebrow to see me leave with one of those.'

Ciel was frowning at the tie in his hands. ‘I don’t care about the shirt.’ Nor did he. But that wasn’t answering the question. And he couldn’t walk out of here like this. 

He glanced at his teacher, and away again. ‘That’s practical, I suppose.’ He crouched again, hunting for his second shoe; it had been kicked under the desk at some point. Behind the rubbish bin. ‘Practical. Not ideal.’

'No, I suppose the time for ideal passed when I ripped you open,' Sebastian said, and got to his feet. Almost as elegantly as usual now, only a little bit sluggish. But his brain still jolted, the electrical impulses in it as thick and slow as syrup.

He blinked. God, he'd come hard. And he began to unbutton his shirt, movement practiced and mechanical. The first few buttons, down to the middle and the very end. He shrugged out of his shirt.

The air chilled his sweaty skin and raised goosebumps. He felt his nipples go erect.

It didn't please him to have to be half-naked in front of this boy. He only remembered this now.

He held out the shirt. 'Here.' Gruffly.

Ciel took it without glancing up at the man. ‘Thanks.’ The shirt was still warm when he pulled it on. And decidedly damp around the collar. Too long in the sleeves, too long everywhere. ‘I’ll get it back to you next week.’

Or tomorrow, if he was organised; he had a lecture after lunch. Oh shit. But Ciel didn’t need to think about that just yet, not at this moment, trying to button up his professor’s black shirt without too obviously looking at the man.

And the man looked- mhm.  _ Good. _ What Uncle Philip would call a greyhound build. Long-necked, narrow-hipped. Slim, and his shoulders-- he didn’t look his age, shit. It was easy to forget-- a lot of things.

Ciel looked back down at the cuffs as he buttoned them. He still had to finish here and get out. Down two flights of stairs and the stone steps and over the lawn to the street, the waiting car, probably a parking ticket fluttering on the windshield, fourteen minutes’ worth of traffic if he was lucky. At 6:30 pm. 

‘I’m going to be late.’ Which sounded ungracious. He tried again. Closer to what he meant. ‘I lost track of time, I think.’

Sebastian felt the boy looking. Just a glance, but his skin echoed the look. He bent down to open his drawer to pull out one of his running shirts. He shrugged it over. Some old band thing, The Sex Pistols. Their logo across a Union Jack.

The boy looked quite cute in his shirt. Even daintier than usual, the sleeves hanging off of him, the front long enough to cover his groin. He could wear it as a dress, and wasn't that an idea? There were things along that line in his other drawer. Things he didn't get to use. Things he never would, now. Too bad this boy could get him fired too easily...

He still had to verbally acknowledge what the boy had said. What had he even been thinking about? 'Well, 6 PM would have been a rather inopportune time to stop, if I recall correctly.'

Ciel flushed again. It was safer to say nothing.

He finished tucking in the shirt and sat down on the ground beside the desk to put on his shoes. He hadn’t even unlaced them when he scuffed them off, God. He’d been impatient.

He glanced back over his shoulder at his professor. Who didn’t look like a professor at all, not in that t-shirt; he looked too young, too casual, more like one of the buskers at the Portobello Markets, the ones who winked at him even when he never stopped to put money in their open guitar cases.

‘Oh,’ Ciel said. ‘Pistols. That’s old-school punk.’ He turned back to picking at his knotted shoe-lace. ‘I have a Vivienne Westwood coat somewhere.’ Which wasn’t the same thing at all, and probably worse than saying nothing. He sighed and tugged his shoe on. There was no safe ground. No safe thing to say.

'Really?' Half-amused and half-doubtful. Sebastian glanced down at the boy and started to fix up the desk. Scattered documents everywhere. Knocked-over pictures and pencils. The miniature statue of Rosalinde was nowhere to be found. Where could that have been? It was only a fraction of the real bike's size, but surely it was too big to just disappear...

'You didn't strike me as the punky type. Can't imagine it's one of her more classic designs. Why are you always coming to class dressed to the nines anyway? I've been wondering about just who you're trying to impress.'

‘I’m not trying to impress anyone.’ Ciel tied his shoelace with a brisk bow. ‘Suits are simple, they require no effort to choose in the morning. And also my mother bought them for me.’ He flashed a dry smile. ‘Once I finish studying I’ll be wearing a suit anyway. In the meantime, what are the options? Jeans and a t-shirt are just as much a uniform. Anything else is a statement. And I’m  _ not _ the punky type.’

He stood up, reaching for his tie. Tucked it under the shirt-collar, pulling the silk tails across his chest.

‘The Westwood coat is nice, though. Tartan wool. The cut is exaggerated but that’s a good thing.’ He shrugged as he knotted the tie. ‘Conservatism dates very quickly. Only the avant-garde is timeless.’

He glanced at his teacher. At the man’s heavy black leather boots, the faded t-shirt. ‘If I were trying to impress somebody, I don’t imagine a suit would be the way to do it.’

Sebastian finished fixing up the desk. He still hadn't found mini-Rosalinde, and things were fairly all over the place, but at least it no longer looked like he just fucked someone on top of it.

Next, he wrenched open the window. He'd been entrenched in the atmosphere for too long to smell anything, but he was certain that there had to be the lingering scent of sex in the air. It wasn't anything his cleaning help hadn't smelled in his office before, and the lady was nice and discreet enough, but no reason to leave behind any evidence after an appointment with a student.

He looked the boy over with a faint smile on his face. 'Certainly not looking like that, it wouldn't be.' He leaned against the open window; the breeze cooled his arms pleasantly, and he sighed. 'Come here. Although there's a timeless charm to the 'just got fucked three ways to Sunday' aesthetics, I should probably fix you up.'

Ciel was tucking in the tail of the shirt, an awkward flap of black cotton. He’d only just started to cool down and his cheeks were heating up again, damn him. 

‘It doesn’t really matter,’ he said, ‘I’ll be going straight to the car.’ And the place would be fairly quiet by now, surely. But there were still the stairs. The hallway full of staff, and he’d just come from an appointment with his professor-- and his hair, oh, he was probably a mess--

Ciel huffed and stepped forward to the man waiting at the window. It was much simpler to look through the slatted dangle of the blinds than glance up at his teacher’s face.

‘You messed it,’ he said. ‘You can fix it.’

Sebastian chuckled quietly, amused by the boy's stubbornness and sour mood. The juxtaposition between his rumpled appearance and haughty demand tickled him.

'Yes, sir,' Sebastian said, and reached around the boy's waist to straighten and pull down the shirt. It was too big, it would never do, but beneath his jacket it would probably go unnoticed. Next, he brought his hands to the boy's tie, and wriggled the knot into the proper place, tucked in the seams, and pulled it straight.

Pulled just slightly harder than was entirely necessary.

‘Oh--’ Ciel’s spine straightened with a snap as the tie jolted his neck. ‘Easy on.’ 

The man was laughing at him, though; a smile still lingered over that teasing mouth. 

Ciel sniffed thoughtfully. ‘Anyway, I thought you approved of the fucked-and-crumpled aesthetic. How long does it take you every morning to look like you haven’t combed your hair?’

'Pfft.' Feisty little thing. But that made it all the more fun. 'Let's see. This is what I do.' And he carded his fingers through the boy's hair. Thick strands slid through his fingers, shiny in the evening sun. He buried his fingers at the front and parted the boy's hair smoothly and patted it down.

His hand slid to the boy's neck, and up into the thick fall of hair that brushed against it. His fingers curled in the tangles and he slowly carded his fingers through them.

Then he curled a few strands of hair around his fingers, and pulled.

'Oops! Dear me. So dedicated to the aesthetics that I'm out of practice, it seems.'

‘Oi.’ Ciel opened his eyes wide. And narrowed them. His professor was smiling too obviously, his lips curled up at the corners. Enjoying this too much. ‘You’re just messing me up now. If I wanted that I could do it myself.’ He shrugged his shoulder as if to shake the man’s hand from his hair. 'You said you were going to fix it.'

Sebastian forced his smile from spreading. He felt like he was grooming a kitten, and teasing him was just too much fun.

'I apologize. I'm almost done.' One hand curled in the boy's neck to keep him in place. He carded the other through the boy's hair one more time, gentle now, starting from the tangles at the tips and working his fingers closer to the boy's scalp. His thumb trailed idly up and down the boy's neck.

'There. Good as new. A little crumpled; no longer obviously fucked.' But he didn't remove his hands just yet, keeping one on his neck and sliding the other back to his tie.

His eyes slid from the boy's eyes down to his lips, and up again.

Ciel kept his eyes lowered, watching the movement of muscle across the man’s forearm while his teacher worked. And then he glanced up. Followed the lazy shift of the man’s dark gaze, slow over his neck. Over his face.

‘I have to go,’ Ciel said steadily. He was very aware of the clock on the office wall. Of the hands resting warm on his neck. Curled on his collarbone. He didn’t pull away. ‘The car. I’m parked on the street.’

Sebastian blinked. And let his eyes slip beyond the boy's head, to the clock.

_ 6:27. _ Fuck, where had the time gone? He'd gotten distracted somehow.

A hollow fist of hunger rumbled in his belly. Noisily.

He cringed just a little at the sound. He cut eye contact with the boy, let go of him, and took a step back. He tried to keep his face carefully neutral and was mostly succeeding. 'Of course. Go on, then.'

Ciel ducked away from the man and around the desk to the other chair, and swept his jacket off the back of it.

It was easier to breathe here with the expanse of timber between them.

‘It  _ is _ getting late.’ He pulled the jacket on over his shirt--  _ not _ his shirt-- and glanced back over the desk at the man. Was there anything to say? What would he normally say at this point in a meeting with one of his professors?

Nothing. He’d just go. And he was nearly clear again, nearly back on his own ground. 

‘I need to finish up an assignment. And  _ you  _ need some dinner. Waitrose’s frozen lasagne.’ Ciel smiled sharply. ‘Ten out of ten would recommend.’

'Hmm. I might actually consider it. ' Nothing like a little lazy indulgence after an unusually intense experience… Sebastian didn't say it. He could think of many more things he could say, jokes, tangents, stories, and one or two more things he could do, while the boy was still in here.

This was natural, of course. Orgasm signaled the parasympathetic nervous system and prefrontal cortex to down-regulate, and this had been an unusually intense experience, the likes of which he hadn't had in...

There was no use in following that train of thought any longer. What did it matter how long it had been? The boy had to leave.

'Get some rest before you do any work. Have a good evening.'

‘Of course,’ said Ciel. But he couldn’t comprehend anything beyond hot water and cool sheets and blessed sleep. He wouldn’t even open his books tonight.

Mental checklist. Keys, phone-- in his jacket pocket. His ruined shirt was still lying on the desk, and he tucked it under his arm. 

Turned to the door. Paused with the cold metal knob under his hand.

‘Good night, then.’

And Ciel managed to turn away as steadily as he always did, a polite nod to his professor behind the desk, ignoring the glint of one his shirt-buttons on the desk-top. And the mess of papers where he’d been spread out. And the upturned statuette on the floor beneath the desk, a motorcycle?-- and the sweat-darkened hair on the man’s temples--

_ Leave now. _

‘Thank you, sir.’

He closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.
> 
> Just kidding. This isn't over yet. :D 
> 
> As always, we're happy to hear your thoughts. Class-related questions can be directed to us via asks, too -- at [ Amanitus'](https://amanitus.tumblr.com/) or [Sinnergy's](https://sinnergism.tumblr.com/) tumblrs.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their eyes had met only once, near the end of the lecture. Sebastian closed the lid of his laptop and looked up to see the boy's eyes right on him. 
> 
> Sebastian had known it, then. It wouldn't go away, he'd crossed the line and here was someone with irrefutable evidence of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the fifth lesson! Please include the slight delay; we've experienced technical difficulties. We've fixed the projector so we're all set for today's notes, which include more texting, travel meditation, and very bad decision making across the board.

Sebastian set aside the paper, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

He glanced over at his phone. It winked at him from beyond a pile of scattered documents. 

Sebastian reclined in his office chair and looked up at the ceiling.

It was a pain. And it was worse because the past couple of days had been surprisingly good.

Tuesday certainly had been. He had been able to slip out of his office without meeting anyone who might ask uncomfortable questions, and on Wednesday, when he'd come to the university half-expecting to find a notice on his desk, the world had just kept on turning as usual.

The same papers. The same irrelevant discussions in the cafeteria. The same grind of booking classrooms and reading emails and engaging in never-ending dances of social negotiations.

And he'd gone home and worked on his bike and forgot about all of that, and the sun set and rose again once, then twice. Still no one waltzed in and accused him of fucking his own student.

It was almost like it had never happened.

Until today, when he had come into the auditorium to teach his introductory lesson on Ethics in the Digital Age, and the boy had been right _there_. Near the front of the class, with the same carefully professional expression on his face, taking dutiful notes as always.

Same as always, and yet not at all.

Sebastian looked away again. 

_Hello anxiety, my old friend._

It gnawed at him as he went on to give his lesson. He talked about what time meant in an age of instant gratification and immortal infamy. How soon they'd see politicians having to scramble to justify what they wrote on Twitter when they were fourteen. How the internet never forgets. How digital signatures are forever.

He'd been a little off at the beginning of the lesson, but Sebastian managed to engage his students after a while. They nodded in understanding at key facts, laughed at sudden jokes, and leaned into their desks during personal anecdotes.

And Sebastian couldn't help glancing at the boy sometimes. 

He took notes, smiled politely at appropriate times. Carefully guarded.

But the boy wasn't looking at him. 

Their eyes had met only once, near the end of the lecture. Sebastian closed the lid of his laptop and looked up to see the boy's eyes right on him. 

Sebastian had known it, then. It wouldn't go away, he'd crossed the line and here was someone with irrefutable evidence of it.

Class ended and the boy filed out of the room with the rest of the students. Sebastian went out to have a bland cafeteria meal with Dr Johnson from Econ. Returned to his office to pack up for the day.

Stared at his phone, and grabbed it.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(18:28) Mr Phantomhive

(18:30) Last time this came up, you told me that you preferred that I spoke to you plainly. I will oblige this time, and state my intentions with inelegant directness.

(18:33) I would like you to delete the photo, and several of our messages. And I'd like you to do it in front of me. 

(18:35) It's nothing personal. You have given me no particular reason to distrust you. The data is rather more insufficient than actively concerning. You understand this, surely?

(18:37) Please come to my office again next week.

  
  


**Ciel**

(19:25) Of course. Day and time?  
  


**Sebastian**

(19:28) I'd prefer to do it as soon as possible, but I am leaving for a road trip around the East Midlands tomorrow, and won't be back until Tuesday, so...

(19:29) Wednesday, 5 PM?

**Ciel**

(19:32) That will be fine. I’ll see you then.

  
  


Sebastian blinked at the reply. 

Cold. Seemingly unconcerned. Impossible for him to get any read at all. The boy was hiding behind his phone, sending impartial, coldly efficient messages. Not even a single pleasantry.

He hadn't been this cold, on Sebastian's desk, just a few days ago. No, he'd been beautifully reactive. Melting easily beneath Sebastian's hands, mouth, cock. Malleable.

He needed to get at least a hint of a read…

  
  


**Sebastian**

(19:35) Great. I'll block off sufficient time in my calendar.

(19:36) How have you been?

  
  


**Ciel**

(19:38) I’ve been fine, thank you. I've almost finished the assignment for the 29th; I shall have to ask you about some of the references.

(19:40) I’ve been busy. Not unpleasantly so. And you?

  
  


**Sebastian**

(19:42) You're free to ask for clarification. As discussed in our first class of the semester, please pose all class-related questions via email. 

(19:44) I'm glad to hear it. A pleasant week overall, then?

  
  


**Ciel**

(19:46) It’s been manageable. 

(19:47) Your Midlands trip is not by car, I take it?

  
  


Sebastian frowned at his phone. Manageable. Well, that sounded like a mess and a half.

_Didn't you like it? I'm pretty sure you did._

_Did it confuse you? Are you thinking about it?_

_Do you regret it?_

None of these questions were appropriate.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(19:50) Oh.

(19:52) That's right. No car. Just me, my girl, and endless stretches of asphalt beneath her wheels.

 _And her hum between my legs..._ but he stopped himself from sending that part.

  
  


**Ciel**

(19:55) Sounds like exactly your sort of thing. Fairly miserable if it rains, though.

And Sebastian finally got a read on the boy's mood.

An image of him as a grumpy, bedraggled, rain-soaked cat waltzed into his head and he couldn't help a low chuckle.

**Sebastian**

(19:57) Hmm. Too bad I can't take you with me. A ray of sunshine like that would come in handy.

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:02) Perhaps another time. I don't imagine you'd have trouble finding company if you need it.

  
  


And that was not a no, Sebastian thought. He took in a deep breath, and glanced up at the half-lidded laptop on his desk. 

He grabbed it, balanced it on his lap, opened the messaging app on his laptop, and started typing.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:10) But I kid, of course. I never take anyone with me on my trips. Sometimes for car trips I might. It doesn't matter, anyway. You're a mere observer to the rapidly changing landscape around you. You sit in a protected, unconcerned frame, so why not have something with you to whittle away the time?

(20:13) On motorcycles, though, you feel an overwhelming presence. You're part of the scene. The thrum of the motor in your ears, the wind on your face, the sun on your skin. Or the rain, even. And why not subject yourself to it sometimes? Why would you want to spend your life in a protected, safe bubble? I'd rather feel the full spectrum of human experience, right there. One with my body.

(20:15) Sometimes, when the rain gets too hard, when it pelts down like arrows, I like to stop. And turn my face toward it, and surrender.

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:21) You have an interesting philosophy of submission. Although your imagery is surprisingly martyrish. Surely your allegiance lies with the allegory and not the religion itself; although I can't imagine you would sacrifice yourself even for the right to expose yourself to the weather. That speaks more of stubbornness than conviction. Do you consider yourself a rebel without a cause, sir?

(20:23) On the subject of cars, I find myself puzzled too. No idea why somebody would choose to be fifty times less likely to die AND insulated from the weather. Just an example of the deeply irrational nature of humanity, I suppose. The full spectrum of human experience that you so avidly seek has always included the risk of death.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:27) Insulation from experience is an option, certainly. It's one that most people choose. TV dinners, vices. Alcohol that dulls the senses. The comfortable lull of a life that's been set into its tracks from the day you were born and grinds ever on. Sedation. Not quite death, but close enough. Thanatos' bastard stepchild.

(20:30) As for your other points.... hmm. Certainly no religious allegiance. It's far more rational to admit to the observable truth of an uncaring universe than cling to the delusion of a benevolent creator, don't you think? 

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:32) A rebellion against insulation assumes that the only influential experiences are external ones. I can’t agree.

(20:34) Religious faith is an empty exercise, of course. At least your particular flavour of paganistic fatalism has an aesthetic appeal. Although I have my questions.

(20:35) The elements have only to be uncaring in order for you to find them worthy of submitting to? I think a therapist would find something very interesting to say about your standards too.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:40) It assumes no such thing. Insulation by definition is a complete suppression of external influence; I implied no such absolutism. What I'm suggesting is an intense interplay between the internal and external. Objective phenomena are what feed subjective experience, which results in action through the filter of internal processing. A sedated life is no life at all.

(20:41) Hah! Paganistic fatalism? I like it.

(20:43) Its indifference is reality, not a prerequisite for my worship. But perhaps I chose drama over clarity. Well-played.

(20:44) Hmm. What would a therapist have to say about you, I wonder...?

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:47) Submission to the uncaring universe is the only sensible option. Raging against Midlands drizzle is about as meaningful as screaming into the void of existence; your resignation beneath British weather is nothing more than I’d expect from any sane person who disdains to carry an umbrella. 

(20:48) If you will forgive the implicit assumption about your sanity. 

(20:48) My therapist, by the way, is a pleasant man with bonsai on his desk who is much more concerned with my nail-chewing than he is with my standards. 

  
  
  


Sebastian put aside the laptop for a moment and thought.

A therapist? The boy didn't seem the type to be very cooperative in therapy. Interesting...

A door opened in the hallway, followed by the clicks of heels and conversation.

People were going home for the day.

And Sebastian had been talking to this boy for about an hour now. And he'd been smiling throughout most of it; he could feel it now, the tension at the corner of his lips.

But that was the most personal thing the boy had ever revealed about himself. If Sebastian was going to ask, he should do it now. And he was curious.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:58) do you regret it?

  
  


**Ciel**

(21:03) I will if I don't get back to working on this assignment, I'm afraid. 

(21: 03) Have a good night.

  
  


Sebastian grit his teeth. 

**Sebastian**

(21:05) Wild stab in the dark here, but did bonsai man ever say anything about avoidance issues?

  
  


**Ciel**

(21: 07) No clue, I never turn up to any of my appointments. See you Wednesday.

**Sebastian**

(21:09) See you.

(21:11) And I don't regret it, for the record. Just the one thing.

_Chew on that for four days._

  
  


******

On Wednesday afternoon, Ciel didn’t wait up at the faculty offices.

He’d kept himself busy all day. Staying behind at the library after his Administrative Law lecture; setting his phone alarm to a silent vibrate and working there in the vast silence until his phone hummed against the table beside him. _4:50 pm._

And here he was on the stairs up to Professor Michaelis’ office. As planned. His bag over his shoulder, and his phone in his pocket, and his mind as close to empty as he could get it. 

Not empty enough. It was a mess, a buzz. 

The Professor said he’d booked sufficient time to see him this afternoon. Sufficient for what? Perhaps things were not as finished as they’d agreed; it had been difficult to gauge the tone without the man in front of him. Everything sounds like irony in a message. 

Ciel had never found this to be a problem so far. 

But his Professor had been _conversational_ the other night. Personal questions. Asking how he was doing, and how the hell was anyone supposed to decipher that? 

Ciel had an answer to that. Not one he could tell his teacher, though, the man had expected maturity from him and not questions-- _is this alright? Is this going to be alright?_

Perhaps it was only talk. Professor Michaelis did that for fun, Ciel had seen it often enough in his classes; sometimes he wondered if the man even believed half the things he said. But the professor was good at talking. Much too good at it. Vivid and unexpected and Ciel couldn’t quite help replying. Questioning. 

The Ethics class last week had been difficult. 

But maybe they’d both been equally uncomfortable. 

And the professor’s conversational style made sense, now; he’d been trying to ease things too. He probably flirted as easily as he breathed.

They had to delete the phone messages, of course. It wasn’t over yet, not as long his professor was still concerned about the evidence. As any sensible person would be with messages like this on their student’s phone.

Professor Michaelis had done it to himself, though, he only had himself to blame. He hadn’t shown this sort of concern when he sent the bloody things, had he? The photo was accidental; Ciel could accept that. But the voice messages had been so very deliberate. Explicit enough to make Ciel flush even now. Their messages, and his professor’s invitation, and their meeting, so carefully organised and so impossibly wrong, tucked in the hush of the man’s office, on his fucking _desk_ \--

Ciel bit his lip.

_Just the one thing._

He could only imagine it had been a Parthian shot, thrown in his direction either pointedly or aimlessly but undoubtedly with intention. An attempt to unsettle him. Ciel saw straight through the tactic. 

He only wished it wasn’t so effective.

_Do you think you’ve achieved something, professor?_

The man was unbelievably smug. Of course he always insisted on having the last word, and Ciel was happy to let him, actually-- it didn’t even matter. It wasn’t an argument; there didn’t need to be a winner. 

_One thing._ Ciel couldn’t guess it. He’d tried. And he was thinking about it again on the stairs now.

The professor had seemed quite satisfied afterwards. After they’d finished. What was it that the man regretted?

Ciel didn’t pause in the hallway or hesitate at the professor's door. And he was glad he hadn’t been waiting here early-- otherwise he’d be too tempted to remember the last time he’d waited here. Or the last time he’d walked out, still hot under his clothes. Still sticky. The bruising on his throat had taken days to fade, oh God--

Ciel cleared his throat.

His watch only said _4:56_ but he knocked anyway.

* * *

Travel always cleared his mind, but prolonged trysts with Rosalinde also left Sebastian spent, exhausted and with a distinct pain in his tail bone and thighs. He'd straddled her for days and sunk into his own mind while the hills flowed by and the sun burned down and the trees whipped by in the Charnwood Forest.

He'd spent some time sitting by the bank of the Trent and writing in a notebook. Some good ideas had come forth from this, some new ideas on the nature of time, a renewed interest to study quantum physics. He'd never gotten as deep into it as he liked, had only seen glimpses of a universal truth in it -- something about unity, a oneness, a cosmic pattern that he could only see a vague outline of.

He'd gotten distracted, then. And gone out to a bar in Leicester and spent all night talking to random strangers. The highlight of that had undoubtedly been trolling some Tories.

Abd Sebastian had thought of Ciel. Sometimes. Most notably during one long stretch of endless highway when the sky broke into rain. A pitter-patter of drops that made the streets glisten. He'd briefly imagined the boy behind him, with his arms around his waist. 'Perhaps another time,' the boy had said, and that had been surprising, really. He couldn't have meant it. But it didn't seem like him to make a joke like that, either.

It didn't matter either way because it would have to remain a pipe dream. He made himself think of Ethan then. The boy had expressed interest in joining him on one of his trips before, but Sebastian the idea of spending days in close quarters around his sensitivity was unappealing. He hadn't seen him in months now anyway. The relationship had almost run its course.

Safe, though. He was a good boy, and undemanding, and tolerant. 

Perhaps another time.

He'd thought of Ciel again once or twice, at night, when the tension in his lower body hadn't let him sleep. He hadn't felt conflicted about that one at all. Why fuck your own student if you weren't going to add it to the spank bank?

And he thought of him now, of course, while he tried to distract himself. He’d worked on some papers, but that had gotten so tedious that he’d turned to surfing Reddit. The showerthoughts subreddit. ‘Word is the only word in the English language that is itself,’ it said, and well, that sounded interesting enough to ponder for a few minutes.

Then there was a knock. He checked his watch. Of course he was early again, as he had been last time.

He set his phone aside, and opened an essay on a random page. He squinted down.

‘Come in.’

When Ciel entered, the professor was exactly where he’d expected-- seated behind his desk, pretending to be busy. The man’s face was gathered in a calm serious look that he never wore when he was actually involved in something. His _busy_ look was a vivid glow in his eyes, a definite animation to his movements. His hands. 

But his professor looked tired today, pale in his black shirt.

‘Good afternoon.’ There was a chair on Ciel’s side of the desk and he dropped his bag beside it. And stood there, uncertain, his face steady. 

'Good afternoon.' Sebastian took off his glasses to rub at his eye and put them back on his nose. He blinked at the boy in front of him. He felt something move in his tummy when he looked at the boy. He swallowed a few times, and willed it away. He had no such thing as a plan for how today would go -- he'd get the things deleted, and move on, but he hadn't thought any further than that.

Ciel tucked his hands into his pockets. He should ask how the man’s trip had been. But that had been a different conversation, in a different place, and he wasn’t sure if that was what was expected of him. But silence-- Ciel’s preference, his habit-- was not going to work today, not if he was going to decipher his professor's mood. To hell with it.

‘How was your trip to the Midlands?’

'Hmm. Good. Good.' Sebastian hated this sort of question usually, and it was such a common one. Come back from a trip and this is the one people ask. But how was it possible to condense four days of being on the road into a succinct answer? His options were either something short and to the point, but not very informative, or a meandering account which no one actually wanted to hear.

'I did a lot of thinking. Traveling is interesting, in a way. Taken out of your comfort zone... suddenly, the thoughts that concern you are where you will sleep today. What you will eat. Where the hell you are. It connects us to our nomadic caveman roots. A simple life. But Rosa --' he stopped himself. 'My bike's exhaust pipe started to make strange sounds, so I looked at it this morning. Clogged muffler from the dirt roads. The usual thing.'

Ciel shrugged. ‘Bliss for many people is a sense of timelessness. Absorption. That makes sense.’ And he wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, so he pulled the chair out further from the desk and sat down slowly. Settled his hands in his lap. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever found travel to be a particularly primal experience.’ He smiled briefly. ‘Maybe I should have spent more time getting rained on.’

'You're quite right about this sense of timelessness. It is a strong recurrent theme in many philosophies. Interestingly, the subjective experience of time changes when you travel. It becomes both more immediate and more distant. Neurologically speaking, our sense of time is dictated by how many new experiences we make. This is why time seems to pass faster as we age; more of what we see everyday are things we've already seen before, hundreds, sometimes thousands of times. But our brains are made for efficient survival, so they filter out all the non-essential information. We would never get anything done if we still marveled at every flower, every rock, every sunset, right? This is why small children are so astounded by the world: they do not yet have those filters. They have not yet seen their environment enough for it to become mental white noise. And this is why time is slow for them. Why summer vacation seems to last forever when you're young. And travel is a glimpse of when time had no meaning...'

Ciel felt the sharp edge of his phone tucked against his thigh, and pulled it out, weighing it on his palm for a moment. And this is why he was here, wasn't it? He laid it on the desk in front of him. 

But there was something else foremost in his mind. 'You anthropomorphise your vehicle.'

Sebastian cleared his throat. 'We all have our idiosyncrasies. My bike is a loyal partner in crime. Or wonder, as the case may be.'

Ciel sat stiffly in his seat. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see.’ 

And he did. Is this what his professor was looking for? The strange simplicity of a child’s vision? Overwhelming and immediate and brilliant. An escape from the sedation, the bubble of insulation that he seemed to despise.

And Ciel could understand that. Perhaps it grated on this man, too, the mundane routine of life, the dull necessities-- the alarm clock at 6am. The toll road. Burnt coffee in the College staff room, and ah, this explained why Professor Michaelis took holidays. Alone. Why he owned a motorbike, why he wore battered black leather boots and never a tie. Why he’d risk his career to indulge in fraternising with a student. It didn’t explain why he was _here_ , in the hallowed halls of Oxfordian conservatism, the very engine-room of modern capitalism, with a photograph of his bike beside the stack of waiting essays. 

Except that it wasn’t the only picture on his desk, was it? The daughter, of course. An attempt at responsibility, then-- a successful attempt, because Professor Michaelis was young to have a doctorate and Oxford is selective-- he must have worked hard to get here, in this building in this city, so far from the colourful far-flung places he escaped to on his term holidays.

But if you’re going to join the capitalist machine you pick the best office, don’t you? If you’re smart, and a little arrogant. And the man was a good teacher. Easily the best speaker, the most original thinker amongst Ciel’s lecturers. Clever. Too clever for this place. Capable of more conviction than appearances might suggest. And whimsical enough to form an affectionate attachment to a motorcycle.

‘I see,’ Ciel said again, and sat back in his chair. And he smiled at his professor. ‘It must have been nice to get away for a few days.'

Sebastian watched the boy's smile and shifted in his seat subconsciously.

A pleasant enough smile, but too knowing. Intense eyes. Sebastian could see the calculations unfold just beyond their glossy surface. The boy's eyes shifted imperceptibly as he looked, aiding the churn of his thoughts.

Had Sebastian revealed more than he'd meant to? It occurred to him that when people talked about the power imbalance between a teacher and a student in the modern school system, they never talked about one aspect: the information asymmetry. It worked in the student's favor. The teacher put himself out there for scrutiny each and every lesson. He was being paid to talk, to share his experience, and Sebastian had always sprinkled his lessons with more personal anecdotes than most of the other professors. If the boy had paid any attention at all, he knew a lot about him.

And what did he know about Ciel? In some ways, probably more than the boy expected. Sebastian had a sense for Ciel's nature and his strengths and flaws. But he knew almost nothing in terms of concrete data, how he spent his time, what he dreamed of, what he feared, what -- or who -- he cared about. 

But they hadn't met here today to have an intimate conversation. Sebastian should get on with the objective.

'Yes, quite relaxing. But anyway. Let's get to the point of this.' He got to his feet and walked around the desk. He came to a halt behind Ciel, until he had a good view of the phone on the desk from over his shoulder.

'Pull it up, please.'

Ciel resisted the instinct to turn in his chair. He kept his eyes on the phone as he leaned over it; he didn't like having anybody stand behind him. But he could hide his irritation. He could get this over with and leave. He felt too exposed today, just being in the same room as his professor, and it didn't help knowing that the sharp gaze was trained on him.

The back of his neck felt hot. 

A scroll of his fingertip.

And there it was on the phone screen, their entire message history, days and days of it. Texts, and voice notes, back to the very start and that fucking _picture._

Ciel half-turned his head, his thumb poised over the selection button. ‘Well. Are you satisfied?’

Sebastian leaned in a little closer, eyes trained on the phone. 'Nearly. Delete it now, please.' A pause. 'All of it, to be safe. The entire history.'

‘Of course.’ Ciel held down the button. ‘There’s no point in keeping it.’ And it was much safer this way.

_Delete conversation?_

_Confirm._

Ciel put down the phone, his hand curling on the desk beside it, but he was still looking at the darkened screen. ‘There,’ he said. ‘As though it never happened. As we agreed.’

'Thank you,' Sebastian said with a deep exhale. 'I appreciate it.'

He’d gotten away with it, then. The evidence was gone, and the boy had proven to be reasonable every step of the way. He would never tell anyone. And if anyone had heard them in the office last Tuesday, someone would have come forth by now. 

Sebastian had gotten away with it, and it was truly over. 

That thought didn't make him feel as good as he thought it would.

Sebastian leaned against the desk, facing still-seated the boy. A polite distance away from him. But he looked at him now, at his pretty face, soft hair, the stiff little body.

Sebastian had seen it. Naked, flushed, loose with pleasure. Would he ever forget?

'But it did happen.' Thoughtfully.

'Presumably.' Ciel shuffled his chair back and stood up. Something was sitting tightly at the base of his skull. The start of a headache. 

He pocketed his phone, without looking up. 'Although in the absence of evidence, there's every chance it was just a particularly interesting daydream.'

Sebastian considered. Philosophically speaking, the boy was right, of course. False memories proved that things didn't have to have actually happened for them to have profound influence on human life. Imagination was powerful. The human brain was far less adept at telling the difference between it and reality than most people were aware of.

But there was a crucial difference, here. Neither of them had dreamed alone.

'...A shared dream, huh?' Sebastian said it slowly, thoughtfully. Felt his lips stretch into a smile. 'How sweet.'

'Human existence is singular. Individual, in the end.' Ciel bent and picked up his bag. 'Nobody ever really shares an experience. It's coloured by personal history, by expectation and interpretation.' 

He settled the strap over his shoulder. The man was smiling. 

Ciel looked away again. 'If two people can't even be sure that they're seeing the same colour, it's hard to imagine that they can agree over a complex experience. For example, one party can be quite satisfied and the other still harbouring concerns.' He looked back at his professor. Cold and steady. 'What is it that you regret?'

'Hmm.' And what Ciel said was true enough. People were born alone and died alone, that much was true. Many philosophers had filled entire tomes pondering objective reality, and whether it even existed at all. The existence of subjective reality was far easier to prove, yet its nature was a complete enigma.

An enigma like this boy. 

And he hadn't even been particularly challenging to seduce. Quite easy, really. Less than a week from first flirt to fuck.

Ciel hadn't played games, and yet still managed to be mysterious.

'Ah. About that.' Sebastian searched for the boy's eyes and kept smiling. 'I don't regret what I did.' His gaze dropped to the boy's lips. And back up to his eyes. 'I regret what I _didn't.'_

'Was that it?' A sort of relief loosened Ciel's chest. He hadn't expected the professor to answer. He'd imagined it was only some game the man had been playing with him. But this made sense, of course. 'Yes, well. It was always going to be contrived. With the time constraints. The list of things you didn't do is bound to be infinite.' He smiled briefly up at the man. 'A little late to consider that now.'

Sebastian looked at the boy intently. Ah, a smile, and his body language loosened. _You were worried about that, weren't you?_ He’d successfully managed to get into his head, then. That was pleasing.

Sebastian pushed himself away from the edge of the desk and took a step closer. Stopping just at the edge of the boy's personal space. He could feel it thrum in the air. 

He smiled down at the boy. 'I didn't say it was a list of things,' he said. 'I said it was one particular thing...'

At the time that he'd written that message, he hadn't even known what the one thing was; he'd been too focused on his revenge, on what would be the most effective thing to say, to consider its veracity at length. But he ended up not having lied.

'But please do tell me. Is there anything _you_ regret?'

Ciel held the man’s gaze. ‘Hm. You’ve already asked me that.’ _And I still don’t plan to answer you._

The reply would be complicated. He didn't regret anything they'd done. In this room, on the desk beside him, _shit don't think about it--_

But he did regret that they hadn’t had more time to talk. Outside the social limitations of the classroom or the tension of this, these meetings afterwards. It would have been nice to ask his professor more questions. About everything. And hear more ideas. No time now to learn if that sharpness in the man’s dark eyes was derisive or only cautious. 

No time to undo the man’s mind and watch the flickering lights. To undress his body and watch how the muscles moved under his warm skin.

Ciel shrugged under the heavy strap of his bag. ‘It isn’t anything that will affect the future. You don’t have to worry about me.’

And what the boy had just said was as good as an admission. And he'd implied he'd been satisfied, before. So he had the same kinds of regrets as Sebastian, then.

'I see.' Sebastian got aware of the environment. The tick of the clock. A rattle on the window frames; that's right, they'd said it would be windy today. The sound of the boy's breath. His own. 'So this is it, then.' 

He hesitated. He'd told himself he'd only have sex with him once, so technically he wasn't going against what he'd said if he --

'If I were to kiss you goodbye...' Sebastian formed the words slowly. Tested how they sounded out loud. If they sit right. His eyes dropped to the boy's lips. 'Would you let me?'

Ciel’s hands ached at the thought. He kept his voice quiet. ‘Why?’ Which was too blunt. But he needed to know. He didn’t want the man to think he needed it, that kind of goodbye. And Professor Michaelis was watching his mouth now and it made his stomach burn. ‘It’s not-- I mean, I didn’t expect you to.’

Sebastian took a step forward, past the invisible barrier into the boy's space, and he put a hand on Ciel's waist and pulled him just a little closer. The touch sent an electric current through his wrist, his arm, into his chest. 

Sebastian's looked down. 'I didn't get to do it. Not properly. You didn't kiss me back.' His hand squeezed slightly.

‘So that’s what you regretted.’ Ciel tried not to stiffen his body under the man’s touch but the warm hand seemed to burn through his shirt. And his professor was very close now, his boot-toes against Ciel’s on the carpet. ‘I didn’t really have a chance,’ he said. ‘I was distracted at the time.’ 

_Very_ distracted that day, choking on his own breath as his teacher fucked him, and now there was no way to ignore the needle-fine prickle of arousal across his skin at the memory, at the strong fingers squeezing into his waist.

This was not part of the plan. It was foolish. But no more foolish than the rest had been, and he’d liked all of it. 

Ciel looked up at the man’s dark eyes. His sensitive mouth. And he swallowed hard. ‘Come closer, please. Don’t make me stand on my tiptoes for this.'

Sebastian smiled, took a step back, and leaned in until his eyes were nearly level with the boy's.

His free hand curled around the tie. 'This is another thing I didn't get to do because you took off your tie too quickly...' he said, and gave it a gentle tug and hauled the boy forward, until-- 

Ciel's eyes took up his entire vision. Their noses nearly touched. The boy's lips were only a breath away.

And Sebastian leaned in. Bridged the last of the distance. Pressed a small, soft kiss to the boy's lips, barely more than a graze. He hummed at the back of his throat, and moved back, the tiniest bit, just barely not kissing anymore. 'Your turn.'

The words brushed hotly over Ciel’s mouth. The pressure on his tie seemed to tighten through his shoulders, and he held himself steady. He put his hand on the man’s wrist, the one at his hip. Balance. He closed his eyes. And it was only sensation, only warmth as he leaned in to meet his professor’s mouth. 

Lightly, his lips pressed, and a second kiss. Slow, firm. He could show the man what he wanted. It didn’t matter. It was goodbye. 

It didn’t taste of goodbye.

It tasted of _hello_ and _oh?_ and _you’re gentler than I remember_ and Ciel relaxed against the kiss and couldn’t remember why they’d wanted to do this, why he’d agreed. It wasn’t a good idea. He wanted to press himself closer. His hand slid up the man's arm to cup his elbow.

Sebastian closed his eyes at the feel of the boy's firm lips.

His fingers slackened around the boy's tie. His hand slid up to his shoulder, then around to the back of his neck. He wrapped his fingers around it gently. And pressed forward, licked across Ciel's lips, once, and then angled the boy's head to push past them and into his mouth.

_Hmm._

Slick, silky heat. Sebastian hummed deep in his throat. He moved his tongue firmly but languidly, enjoying the slide. The rhythmic closing and opening of his mouth. A deep kiss, a proper kiss, tasting and exploring.

That had been the missing piece. Good kissing was as important as good fucking. Almost as pleasurable. Even more telling about compatibility, chemistry. A fuck was almost never bad; at worst it was only physically pleasurable while being mind-numbingly boring. But kisses could run the entire gamut from ecstasy to repugnance. At their best, they were heavenly slides of silk, of intuitive coordination; at their worst, they were invasive, a sad display of a fundamental and maladroit lack of connection.

He was too curious not to test this.

He moved his hand to the small of Ciel’s back, massaging it rhythmically. Digging in his fingers, and pushed the boy forward, up against the length of his body.

_Oh._

Ciel moved with the guiding hand. It was another kind of melting, and the man’s touch was warm and firm and _everywhere_ , fingers curling behind his neck and holding him in place-- close enough to suck at the warm mouth, the swell of the man’s lower lip. Deliberate, sumptuous. 

And God, he hadn’t planned to, but Ciel wanted to _know_ \-- what Professor Michaelis was, what he had, one last taste before he walked out of here. He wondered why his teacher had regretted not doing this. If he was satisfied now. 

And then Ciel was doing exactly what he hadn’t wanted to, reaching up. Sliding his hand behind the man’s back. Pushing himself up onto his toes, a bump against that warm chest, deeper into the kiss and the heat.

Sebastian shivered at the boy's hand on his back. Warm, curious. He allowed it; this was not about domination at all. This was an exploration. The last time he'd get to kiss him, so he'd have to make it count.

Sebastian's tongue tangled with the boy's own tongue, saying, _play with me._ His hand moved up and down the boy's back, along his spine, across each shoulder blade, then settling in between them.

And he pressed his mouth down a little harder, opening the boy's mouth wider with his jaw, pushing in his tongue a little deeper. 

And fuck.

_It feels good._

Ciel’s fingertips burned. He’d kissed people before. And been kissed back, but never like this. Curiously. Searchingly, a deep press of hot tongue in his mouth, and his professor’s hand moving warm over his back, strong and slow. 

Ciel raised his hand to the man’s cheek, the fine rasp of the jaw shifting under his touch, and he could feel himself heating slowly. A shudder down his back. He ground himself against the man’s body. Tasted him hungrily. Dizzily. Unhurried, a luxuriating lap of his tongue. Another. Feeling the delicious slide between his lips, the shiver over his skin.

Sebastian felt Ciel's hot body up against him, an undulation of his hips. Sebastian leaned further down. Felt their teeth click together, and he caught the boy's bottom lip and nibbled on it, running his tongue along it. Slow, slick. His head blissfully empty. 

And his hand moved down to the small of the boy's back and pressed him closer, closer, and his hips thrust forward, and oh. _Oh_ . Oh, _shit._ Pleasure scissored through him. He was hard, and he hadn't even noticed, and _shit_ \--

Ciel made a small sound. _Wait._ Twining, and sucking, but _oh, fuck wait no._ His fingers tightened in the man’s shirt. There was only one way this could end.

Sebastian stiffened. And broke the kiss with a gasp and straightened himself and took a step back, severing their contact, and stared at the boy's flushed face, his glazed eyes, and _fuck. I can't,_ he thought. Desperately. _Fuck, I really, really can't._

He'd only booked a half-hour appointment, and there was no way they could take this any further, and even if they had time, he couldn't -- not again. Not after he'd gotten away with it. It was entirely impossible.

Sebastian’s breathing came in rapidly. Harshly. Heat prickled his skin. His cock strained against his trousers.

'I --' He broke off. Tried again. 'You --' Another step back. Distance, distance, space. Space to breathe. To think. 'You must leave now.'

Ciel’s voice was gone. ‘Ah--’ He blinked at the man, off-balance. And there was still a warm colour flushed over his professor’s neck, above the open collar of his shirt--

 _Shit._ Ciel’s cock twitched, and it was hard to say if the kissing had been a success or not because he still wasn't sure of the point of it. Except that his teacher had wanted it, and he'd allowed it, and he didn't have time to think about this now. He had to get out of here. He wouldn’t be able to think until he was downstairs. On the train, at home. 

No train. He needed to walk.

‘Yes.’ Ciel adjusted the bag on his shoulder. And swung it over to the other one, pulling his tie straight, looking around the desk for his phone-- which was in his pocket already, of course, and yes. Yes. ‘Yes, I’m going.’ He didn’t glance back at his professor. ‘That’s all-- ah, sorted. I suppose. I’ll see you next week.’

'Next week. Yes.' Sebastian nodded absently, and walked around the desk again to slump into his chair. The adrenaline ebbed away and his cock shrank rapidly.

Sebastian could still taste him. Feel the ghost of his hot little body against the length of his own. Goddammit. It had worked too well. Of course it had. He should have known. He _had_ known, and still--

'Have a good... evening.’

‘Of course.’ Ciel was at the door. His fingers on the cold handle, opening it. ‘You too.’ He stopped and turned back towards the man at the desk, though, because there was still something he regretted. 

Something he hadn’t said. 

Ciel nodded, politely, as he did sometimes if somebody held the elevator for him. ‘I don’t regret anything, Sebastian.’ 

And then he closed the office door behind him and could breathe again, down the stairs and away.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, don't be dumb like these two, kids.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, and all that good stuff! We'll try to be a little quicker with the next one. It's already written, just a matter of editing it for publication.
> 
> See you next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His phone screen was flashing at him again. _It’s a Match._
> 
> Ciel sighed. Scrolled. Stopped breathing. 
> 
> Paganistic Fatalist. It couldn’t be. It could only be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Ethics 101! After a brief remission, class is back in season. In today's lecture, we talk about free will, determinism, and further adventures of our two incorrigible horndogs.

Sebastian slumped back in his chair, breathing heavily.

In. Out. In. Out.

The boy had it in him to surprise Sebastian, didn't he? To come back to this spur-of-the-moment request from during their time in his office.  _ Say my name. _

The word had rolled off the boy's lips easily. As if it belonged.

_ Sebastian. _

He got up and walked toward the window. Looked out without seeing. Went back to his desk. Packed up his things and left his office and walked out and took himself home on Rosalinde. Entered his flat and threw his bag into the corner and collapsed on the couch and groaned.

_ Fuck. _

The frustration entered his skin needle-sharp and spread through him in a stuttered pulse. Sebastian felt warm. His body was tight, tight everywhere, head and torso and legs.

_ Fuck. _

Mephisto jumped onto the couch and nudged his head against him. Sebastian scratched him beneath his ears.

The cat wagged his tail and growled.

Oh right. Meal time.

Sebastian fed his cat and then fed himself too, with leftovers from last night's dinner. Then he put on The Clash and tried to focus on tasks. There was a stack of half-finished accounting stuff on his desk. He put it away; it was better for it to be out of sight than a constant reminder of impending doom and inconvenience. He threw his bedsheets into the washing machine, picked up some of the books scattered around in his place, placed them into the shelf. 

Mephisto watched him curiously, his little tail wagging.

'Don't judge me,' he told him.

The cat yawned.

Twenty minutes later, Sebastian found himself lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, with no memory of what he'd been thinking about.

His lower body felt tense. He was horny, wasn't he? And that would be entirely logical. Of course he would be.

Sebastian took out his phone and opened the Tinder app.

He opened his profile. There were three pictures. The first was a black-and-white profile shot. His face was half-turned away, recognizable only if one looked very closely. The second photo showed his gloved hand wrapped around Rosalinde's throttle. He moved on to the third image, another black-and-white shot from behind, his hair tousled, a towel wrapped around his waist, enshrouded in the glow of a window beyond.

'Hedonistic Opportunist' was his name. 

Sebastian changed it to 'Paganistic Fatalist,' kept his age as undeclared, and changed his profile description to 'Bored but never boring.' He raised his age preference from 18-24 to 18-28. It wasn't the right time to be picky.

Sebastian navigated back to the main interface to look at his options. 

John, 25. His main picture showed him rock climbing without a shirt on. Probably dumb as rocks, but who cares. Swipe right.

Paul, 21. Cute smile, two spelling errors in his description. Whatever. Right.

Right. Adam, 18. Right. Siddharta, 27. Right. Ciel, 19. Right--

Sebastian dropped his phone onto his stomach and picked it up again with a low, his hands shaking.

'Oh,  _ fuck  _ me.'

* * *

  
  


Ciel was settled where he usually was after dinner on a weekday, on any day-- in front of his laptop, headphones on, no music playing. Only white noise, something ambient. A pleasant hum behind the hiss in his head.

He’d followed the usual pattern of his evenings: bag dropped on his bed when he arrived home, something frozen microwaved while his flatmate’s TV blared from the shabby lounge room. He ate at his desk. Showered. Returned to his desk.

The only variation for the night had been while he’d waited at the bus-stop in the gathering darkness. Five blocks of brisk walking in the clean air, after he’d left his professor’s office, and then he’d paused to catch the bus-- half out of habit, still absent-minded. And he’d pulled out his phone, turning away from the glare of the awakening streetlights to see his screen. Double-checking the bus timetable. He’d been right, of course; he’d only have to wait seven minutes.

And it was overcast again; he checked the weather for tomorrow. 

And he was hungry, and remembered he’d run out of cereal, and he added it to his shopping list. 

And his chest still felt flushed under his shirt from the walk, hotter than it should have been, and it would  _ really _ have been better if he hadn’t let the man kiss him. Hadn’t kissed him back. That had been too good, too unexpected, and he hadn’t been prepared for it. The heat hummed away in his throat, his spine. His cock. So he opened Tinder, and re-set his profile. Checked the picture, the only decent one he had-- too professional-looking in his buttoned shirt, he knew that, but it had never seemed to stop anyone. And he took out the cleverly-worded little bio, leaving only the Snapchat link; he didn’t need somebody who appreciated clever. 

There wouldn't be time for cleverness, anyway.

And then the bus had come rumbling up and Ciel had put the phone away again.

It was sitting on his desk now while he worked, and when he paused between his third and fourth cups of tea, he reached for it and scrolled absently through the availabilities. 

The empty calories, Ciel thought to himself; and that was no good. He’d always think of that now, the man’s words. 

All of his words, and the lowering tone of his professor’s voice in the messages they’d deleted this afternoon-- and now they only existed in Ciel’s memory. Their memories. Everything, the heat of the man’s kisses, the gentleness of his fingers in Ciel’s hair. Over his chest. Digging sharply into his hip, holding him firm against the desk. 

The dark glint in his professor’s eyes when Ciel had opened his lips to take the swollen head of that cock just a little deeper.

Salt in his mouth. Fierce in his body, as sharp a shiver in his skin as the man’s teeth had been.

Fuck. Ciel’s hands twitched.

Oh, fuck.

And he blinked down at the phone screen at Aaron, who was 23 and up for anything _ , _ apparently, who played rugby and had quite nice shoulders but didn’t know how to capitalise his words and probably wouldn’t know how to use his tongue either and would certainly,  _ certainly _ want to talk afterwards--the friendly ones always did--and Ciel rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He reached for his mug of tea. He’d have to pick something. Somebody. Soon. 

Fuck.

His phone screen was flashing at him again.  _ It’s a Match. _

Ciel sighed. Scrolled. Stopped breathing. 

_ Paganistic Fatalist.  _ It couldn’t be. It could only be. But he’d never even seen--

Oh fuck fuck  _ fuck. _

He remembered the pictures now, the monochrome aesthetic-- he'd swiped right on it weeks ago. Of course. The bare lines of the man’s back and the gloved fingers on the motorbike but fuck, he hadn’t recognised it. How the fuck had he not recognised it?

It wasn’t surprising. He shouldn’t feel surprised, his hands shouldn’t be cold. Small area, popular app, a wonder it didn’t happen all the time. Perhaps it did. 

But no, most men that age weren’t looking in the same age-range as their students, were they?

Hindsight is a bitch, a bitch in 9-inch heels with a very pointy knife.

‘Oh God,’ said Ciel.

* * *

Sebastian pulled up Ciel's profile.

That fancy suit and tie. A bit ridiculous for Tinder, really. Was the boy looking for a fuck or a Russian mail order bride?

There was no description either. Just a link to this Snapchat thing. Sebastian had researched it for his lecture on ethics in the digital age but it had been hard to find any sources that didn't equate it to basically a sexting app.

And the boy was linking to it on Tinder, so was that the intent?

My. How eager.

He opened a chat and he was typing before he could stop to think about it.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:13) Quick question, forgive an old man for not being up to speed on the etiquette

(20:15) does a dick pic sent over a Snapchat link in someone's Tinder profile qualify as 'unsolicited' or are you trying to sample the wares?

‘Arrogant piece of shit.’ Ciel put the phone down as though it had bitten him and drained his mug of tea. He could go to bed and pretend he hadn’t seen the man’s message-- but that would only work until next week and another lecture, fuck it. 

He could unmatch and play dumb. If only he hadn’t used his real name; it wasn’t a common one. But he had nothing to hide, did he? He could be an adult about this. He didn’t have to hide his name or face or age or preferences. He wasn’t the one risking his job here.

And he already knew he wasn’t going to ignore this. 

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:18) I’m always prepared to explain, Professor.

(20:19) A Snapchat link is widely recognised as being short-hand for an invitation. Consider yourself solicited. 

(20:20) Theoretically. 

(20:20) In this case I already know what I’m dealing with, and a picture won’t be required. But I appreciate your ethical concerns, as always.

  
  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:22) So it's kind of like an application form, is it? I see now. How very efficient. As to be expected from you.

(20:24) Any notable applications yet tonight?

  
  
  


**Ciel**

(20:26) Of course it’s efficient. There’s no point using a modern convenience just to recreate the same tiring behaviour that it’s meant to replace.

(20:27) No applications worth a second look, though.

  
  
  


And Ciel regretted that as soon as he pressed send. He should have lied, should have said  _ Of course, shall I show you? _ but that would have been a provocation. Flirtation. 

And what the fuck was this, then?

Shit. It had been too easy to fall back into conversation with the man.

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:28) It’s still early though, and I’m hardly in a hurry. 

(20:28) And how is your evening prowl going, sir?

  
  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:29) Aha. Well, let me know if you need me to write you a glowing review. I hear that these are very effective when advertising your services online. Shall I draft one up for you?

(20:30) Hard to say. I've barely started looking. Imagine my surprise when you showed up in my feed pretty much straight away. What a coincidence.

  
  
  


‘Advertising my--’ Ciel bit his lip. ‘Oh, you smug fuck.’ That didn’t deserve a reply. But if he didn’t answer the man would think he was sulking over it. He couldn’t leave it there.

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:33) Likewise, if you ever require a recommendation I shall be delighted to assist. 

(20:34) It is quite a coincidence, isn’t it. Considering that over 20% of the city’s population consists of your target demographic, stumbling over my profile does seem unfortunately redundant.

  
  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:36) Oh yes. The mysterious world of social media algorithms. It's scary how much they know about our exact desires, isn't it?

(20:38) Thank you for the offer. I shall be happy to take you up on it. My profile would benefit greatly from a more personal touch, I believe. Let's hear it. Would you do me the honour of composing a few lines?

  
  
  


Ciel shifted in his seat. That was too clear to ignore. Too clear to address, either.

He reached for his tea but he'd finished it, damn it, and he left his phone on the desk to go into the kitchen. The glasses were all in the dishwasher so he found a clean mug. Filled it with ice cubes, and there was still half a bottle of vodka beside his flatmate’s ouzo in the cupboard-- no orange juice, of course, he’d have to put that on the list too. Neat would have to suffice tonight.

Ciel filled his mug. Returned to his desk. Sipped. Picked up his phone.

  
  


**Ciel**

(20:44) I can hardly imagine you could trouble finding appropriate words for a self-portrait. You’re the one with the doctorate in philosophy. 

(20:45) And I believe I’ve already contributed to your profile.  _ Paganistic Fatalist. _ Is that what you are? Or is it only for tonight?

  
  
  
  


It took Ciel just long enough to reply that Sebastian had a chance to think about what the hell he was doing.

_ Shit. _

He set the phone aside and stared up at the ceiling.

He'd said it was only going to be once. He'd promised himself. He was going to end it.

But none of what he was doing right now was conducive to ending it. Not what he was doing now. Not kissing the boy --

_ Fuck. I just can't help myself. _

Why? The boy was cute and clever, but many boys were. None of them made Sebastian do shit quite this stupid and reckless.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(20:52) Those are some very good questions. Are you familiar with philosophical determinism? According to it, free will is an illusion. Everything we do is caused by previous events, everything is already decided by the unique combination of our beliefs, desires, and temperaments. It's no different from how the swing of a bat causes a ball to fly, only that in the case of human action, the causes are invisible.

(20:54) Spinning this idea even further and considering the causal chain of the universe... it follows that it's theoretically possible to predict the future. If we were able to perfectly calculate all moving objects and their exact trajectories. Fascinating stuff. Anyway. You're probably not on Tinder to discuss philosophy.

(20:59) I admit I don't have a good answer for you, Ciel.

Ciel drained half his vodka in one long burning gulp. Of course he hadn’t come here for this. He’d come here for simplicity, hunting down the single-mindedness of satisfaction, to clear his head of a few distracting thoughts. To avoid exactly this. These memories. This other mind, set opposite him. 

  
  


**Ciel**

(21:06) Determinism? I can imagine. If we only had time to calculate, to step back far enough to observe the pattern, there’d be sense to it. But life is short. There’s only time for a few quick guesses in the dark.

(21:08) No, I didn’t come on Tinder to discuss philosophy. But you might be right. If everything we do is caused by previous events then it was bound to happen. It’s one of only two things we tend to discuss, isn’t it? 

(21:10) I doubt we have free will. Not as free as we believe. But the repercussions of that are quite serious; what is the point of ethics when there is no choice involved? I refuse to believe we’re slaves to temperament and desire alone. 

Although he wasn’t doing a great job of proving otherwise. This was supposed to be over. He was supposed to be moving on, scrolling through the waiting list, talking to anybody else in the world except this man. 

(21:11) But here we are. 

(21:11) And you’re not here for philosophy either.

  
  
  


**Sebastian**

(21:14) Indeed. If the idea of determinism is followed through to its logical end, the implications are profound. People do not like to think of it. Humans think that they're free because they feel that they are. They feel as if they are the masters of their own choices. And often, it is what they need to believe.

(21:16) Anyway... 

Sebastian hesitated before he wrote his next messages.

But what could he say, if not the truth? Ciel was too smart not to know what this was about. And the boy was not passive in this. 'You're not here for philosophy, either', and Ciel knew full well what Sebastian wanted. And he was leading this, more than he realised.

Leaving the breadcrumbs, and Sebastian could not help but follow the trail.

The only other option was to end the conversation, unmatch the boy, resolve never to speak to him again, and stick to it.

And Sebastian had tried that before. More than once. 

Leaving this wasn't a real option. He'd used up all his self-control when he managed not to fuck the boy on his desk a few hours before.

What misfortune to run into him again like this. Here. To feel this improbable, incredible, near-intoxicating synergy.

Had it really been a misfortune? Had it not been all of the small choice she'd made since this whole thing started that had inevitably led him to  _ this _ ?

It was bigger than him.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(21:20) And you're very right. I'm here because I want to fuck someone.

(21:20) And I'm talking to you because I can't stop wanting it to be you.

  
  
  


Ciel’s fingers were icy. Everything had led to this: whether by determinism or something else, the paths had led them to this question and this answer. All by choice, conscious or not. They’d come too far already. If it had been a few weeks earlier, if he’d recognised the profile, he would have ignored it. Perhaps his professor would have too-- he’d always avoided his own students, he’d said so.

But the man wasn’t doing that now. Not even tonight, after taking the precaution of seeing all the evidence deleted, taking care to manage things. To end them. 

_ I can’t stop wanting it to be you _ . It was what Ciel was expecting. The meaning, if not the utter honesty.

But until he saw it on the screen, he hadn’t known it was what he’d been hoping for.

He breathed out slowly. 

  
  


**Ciel**

(21:24) The future isn’t random. Only uncalculated. And if time is truly relative then there isn’t even any future. It’s cyclic. We return to where we were.

(21:25) And now I know why you’re still talking to me.

(21:25) I’m talking to you because that half hour today was better than anything I’ll find on here tonight. I don’t even need to calculate that.

**Sebastian**

(21:27) It took all of my self-control today, not to fuck you on my desk like I did last week.

(21:28) Oh, it was good. You were good. Sweet and sensitive and reactive and so willing to honour me with your submission....

(21:29) Do you think about it? Was it how you had hoped it would be?

  
  
  


_ Submission _ . Ciel swallowed hotly. But it had been, more than he’d ever given anyone. Something he’d never imagined he might want. It was too late to tell himself he didn’t  _ do _ this because he already had, and he’d been dizzy with it, and still was.

What would have happened if his professor had tried it again? Today. If they’d kept kissing a little too long. If he’d been pushed over that desk, the warm body hard behind him. Moving inside him. Breathing brokenly--

  
  


**Ciel**

(21:32) Yes

(21:32) Of course I think about it

(21:32) I spent four hours in the library today thinking about it

(21:34) It was good. I didn't know it would be like that. 

(21:34) I know you said we had to end it. I had every intention of sticking to that. It was the right decision, we couldn't have done anything else. But I'm still thinking about it. If you'd asked me in the office today, I wouldn't have refused you.

(21:35) I couldn't have. I can't say no to you. Fuck.

Sebastian took a deep breath and put the phone away to stare at the ceiling.

The temptation coiled low in his body.

None of his neighbors worked for or attended Oxford University. He'd made sure of it when he'd moved in, and he still kept up with every new person or family moving in to make sure that this was still the case. A year ago, one of the secretaries from the lit department had moved into an apartment on the second floor with her boyfriend. Luckily, they'd broken up a few months ago, and moved out. Sebastian had never been more thankful for someone else's misfortune.

No one was likely to question it. If the boy showed up here. They were used to young men showing up at his place. No one had ever asked if they were his students. 

And if, by chance, anyone did question him -- well, Ciel could always say he had a friend in the building. The neighbor's son was around Ciel's age. He'd do as a cover story....

But no one would ask. It was practically impossible that anyone would find out. 

Not tonight.

Sebastian grabbed his phone.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(21:38) Come over.

  
  


**Ciel**

(21:40) To your place? 

(21:40) Oh shit

(21:40) Now?

  
  


**Sebastian**

(21:40) Yes and yes. No one from university lives in my building. The chances of getting caught are as good as null. If anyone asks, you're here to visit Jake. But they won't ask. 99.9% certainty.

(21:41) Do you want to?

  
  


**Ciel**

(21:41) Give me 10 minutes. Address please--

(21:41) and yes, I want to. The odds are safe. 

(21:41) I wouldn't care if they weren't.

  
  


And Ciel put down the phone. He was pulling off his t-shirt. Looking for a clean one. He'd have to call for a ride. Now. Right now, before he could reconsider.

  
  


**Sebastian**

(21:42) 23 Staverton Rd.

(21:42) I'll be waiting.

* * *

  
  


The night air was colder than Ciel had expected when he closed the door of the flat behind him and stepped down to the footpath. A cutting sort of wind. Lucky he’d brought his coat. 

He blinked at the bounce of headlights over the speed-bump on the corner, and that would be the cab. It pulled up, a gleam under the street-light. Everything was gleaming. It must have been raining all night; he hadn’t noticed. It still was, damn it, rain and puddles and Ciel swore sharply, ankle-deep in the sodden gutter as he stepped into the waiting taxi. His shoes were soaked. 

‘Evening,’ said the driver, grizzled beard and Welsh accent. ‘What’s on the cards for tonight, then? Off to a party?’

Ciel looked up from fumbling with the seat-belt as the car pulled away. Cabbies didn’t usually bother talking to him. And this one was already frowning, trying to place him. Ciel wondered if that’s what it looked like: a student out on a weeknight, tucked up in a damp black tartan coat.

He shrugged. And realised he was chewing his thumb nail. ‘No,’ he said, ‘dinner. Late dinner.’

Very late.  _ 21:58 _ said the clock on the car dash. Ciel hadn’t noticed that either. Time disappeared when he was talking to his professor. When he was thinking about him, the whole drive north through town. 

He was glad he hadn’t waited. Hadn’t stopped to question the man's request. Or was it an order?  _ Come over _ . Even if he was stepping into uncertainty he didn’t care and that was strange, that meant he liked this. Liked being ordered. It curled up hot in the palms of his hands and Ciel folded them in his lap, watching the light splinter through the wet car window.

* * *

Sebastian took the rounds around his flat.

It was clean, at least. Clean enough. Judy had stopped by just before his trip, and she'd done a good job deep-cleaning the whole place. He might have to give her a raise. There hadn't been any time since to dirty the place up.

Clutter, though. There was always clutter.

He checked his office. Oh dear.... he'd been tinkering with a transistor. A mess of wires, hardware and tools lay scattered in the corner. Documents, diagrams, and more wires and cables lay strewn around on the desk. Hand-drawn motorcycle diagrams lined the walls. 

Best to try to keep the door to his nerd dungeon closed, then.

Next, the kitchen-slash-living-room. Mephisto stared at him from the black leather sofa with silent judgement in his eyes.

'You don't understand,' he told him. 'Sorry for castrating you.'

No answer. He should make sure not to do this in front of the boy; he'd probably shown him enough of his quirks already. He didn't need to know he talked to his cat.

There were plenty of personal things in this room: small posters of punk bands, several red A's scattered on the walls near the kitchen. All his travel memorabilia: magnets from cities he'd visited on the fridge, a circle of photographs taped to the wall above the sofa. Himself in Barcelona, in Paris, in Tokyo, in Brazil. 

Pictures of Lily, too. He counted three of them. But he didn't take them off. He'd been upfront about his daughter; it was nothing Ciel would be shocked to see.

It was too late to change anything. Any attempt would likely end in creating more of a mess than was there already by the time the boy arrived.

He checked the bathroom. There wasn't much to change here: it was small and fairly standard. The only unusual thing was the large size of the shower stall. Nothing to do here.

He didn't go into the guest room, the one Lily stayed in when she came over. There would be no reason to go in there.

The bedroom. And that was quite a mess, clothes everywhere, and he quickly picked them all up and tossed them into the laundry bin in the bathroom. The sheets on his king-sized bed were fresh at least. He was proud of the light fixtures in his bedroom: a chain of light wreathed up alongside the window, and a spherical lamp sat by the desk that changed colors with a remote control. A large floor lamp by the bed exuded soft buttery light. The large headboard of the bed had enough gaps to comfortably tie a rope or the chain of a pair of handcuffs around them.

How about some incense? Perfect, he still had some that he'd brought back from his trip to Thailand last year. He lit a stick next to the bed, and another in the living room, opening the doors to let the scent of sandalwood permeate the flat.

Now everything would smell nice, except --

Shit. He'd forgotten to take a shower, hadn't he?

Sebastian sniffed his shirt. The distinct smells of sweat and motor oil clung to him. But there wasn't any time really to take a shower--

He'd just have to shower when the boy came over. Maybe ask him to join. 

He sank back down onto his sofa and checked his watch. 10 minutes, the boy had said. It was past that now. He had to wait.

* * *

Ciel was blinking through the taxi window at the apartment block, at the steps and clean blank facade.

‘There you go.’ Cheerfully from the driver’s seat. ‘This it?’

‘I don’t know. Yes, fine.’ 

It took Ciel half a minute to find his wallet. It was hard to think. And the street was quiet when the taxi pulled away again. There were even chestnut trees, actual proper suburbia. Quietly expensive. Ciel didn’t know how much a lecturer at Balliol College might be paid. Quite a lot, he imagined. 

His shoes crunched on the gravel driveway. They were still soaked through. And maybe that’s why he was shivering and had to pull his coat closer around him as he stepped up to the door. There were rows of names beside their unit numbers. He found the only one that mattered.  _ Michaelis. _ And pressed the buzzer.

The responding voice was a crackle beside his head. ‘Second floor on the left.’

He was expected, of course. He wondered how long the man had been waiting but he stopped himself from checking his phone; it didn’t matter. He was here now.

Ciel made his way upstairs in the sudden calm warmth of the silent building. Pale carpet, pale walls. He still couldn’t believe he’d just done this, he hadn’t given himself time to question. He was almost never impulsive and when he thought about it-- ticking off mentally, a short list-- he’d rarely been sober. Tonight didn’t count. One drink didn’t count. But his throat still burned hot and tight and it was just as bad. But it was always like this. His professor made him feel like this. Restless, half-drunk. Stubbing his toe on the stairs.

And that was the second floor, and the door on the left. 

Ciel straightened his back and knocked twice.

Sebastian swung open the door almost immediately. 'Come in.'

Ciel entered, and Sebastian closed the door behind firmly.

Sebastian looked the boy over. He looked very young today. Younger than usual, with his hair moist, a little frizzled from the rain. Cheeks rosy from the chill. 

So bloody cute.

Water dripped onto the floor from his coat. 

'Wonder what your ancestors did to piss off the weather Gods enough to make it rain cats and dogs three hundred days a year in this country,' Sebastian said. 'Give me your coat. Let's see about warming you up.'

‘I think they brought their weather gods with them,’ said Ciel. ‘Who clearly preferred it at home in Scandinavia where it’s either rain or mist, instead of trying to be both at once.’ 

He shrugged off his wet coat and glanced up at his professor. The man looked less tired than he had this afternoon, which hardly made sense-- he seemed focused, quietly amused. Dressed in simple black, quite comfortable, as he would be in his own home. 

Ciel was not. He felt out of place, underdressed, and almost wished he was away from the man’s dark eyes for a moment so he could look around the room without seeming too obviously curious. But the gaze made him warm, a throb at the nape of his neck, and he smiled slowly. And then ‘Oh, shit--’ as he noticed the scattering drops over the floor, and he stepped backwards out of the puddle as he handed over his coat.

_ Oh.  _ The boy's smiles were rare enough that Sebastian blinked and caught himself staring, and then the boy took a step backwards and Sebastian followed his panicked little gaze down --

'Ah. Look at you making a mess already.' He turned to hang the boy's coat on the rack.

Sebastian had never seen the boy not dressed like he was running to be elected class representative; the jeans and white t-shirt suited him well. He looked like a normal boy this way. Just a boy, hanging out at his professor's seedy abode past 10 PM, looking for...

They both knew what they were looking for.

'Hmm.' Sebastian leaned in and curled a hand around the boy's arm. Let it trail up and down slowly. 'Still chilly...'

‘I know, I didn’t-- realise it was raining.’ Ciel shivered under the gentle fingers. The appraising shift of his professor’s eyes. ‘You’re quite warm, though.’ He looked away. ‘Everything’s wet, sorry.’ He leaned his hand against the man’s shoulder and scuffed off his damp sneakers, feeling a sudden heat over his neck. ‘I didn’t go back for my umbrella.’

Sebastian looked down at Ciel. The boy was nervous, wasn't he? Avoiding his eyes and the closest to babbling he'd ever seen him. 

Sebastian's hand moved up the boy's arm to his shoulder and toward the nape of his neck. The tip of one finger nestled in the dip just above the boy's collar bone. 'You were in a hurry, of course.'

He took a step back, and grasped the boy gently by the wrist. And tugged. 'Come. Let's get you to the bathroom.'

‘I’m fine,’ Ciel said, but he fell into step beside the man. His fingers curled. He didn’t pull his wrist away. And he gave the professor a sideways glance, a lilt of his eyebrows. ‘It sounded like you were in quite a hurry too.’

'I was, for sure.' 

Sebastian stopped and considered whether he should try to calm the boy down. There was something attractive about this nervous energy, too, but --

Sebastian didn't want to think about anything. It was easier to think of them as just two people attracted to each other until he was forced to consider other variables.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the boy's lips. Soft and lingering. He smelled of rain and mud and the distinct tang of humidity. 

Another kiss, a hint of tongue across the boy's lower lip. 'Not anymore. I'll treat you well tonight.'

And he opened the bathroom door and ushered the boy in and switched on the light.

Ciel blinked in the bathroom light. His professor moved differently tonight, quiet in his own home. No need to project his voice. No performance. Just his hands, his gentle mouth, the fumes of motor oil in his clothes. 

Ciel licked at his bottom lip. His chest felt hot, clammy under his t-shirt, as damp as the hem of his jeans. Which were mud-spattered, too-- but it didn’t matter. That’s why they were in here. The bathroom. 

His breath was too quick but he moved slowly now. He wasn’t in a hurry either; they had time. No rush, no danger of exposure, and that was another kind of thrill. His fingers felt as though they might be shaking. Why does fear feel the same as excitement? A throb in your body.

He didn’t look up as he unzipped his jeans and shuffled them onto the tiled floor.

Sebastian bent down to pick up the jeans and inspected them. Too dirty to wear; they'd have to be washed. He tossed them into his laundry basket, and looked at the boy's slender legs, from his ankles over his shin to the swell of his thighs. 

But he wasn't going to stare yet. He looked away with a smile, slid open the shower door, and turned on the water, let it run over his hand. 'Do you like it very hot?'

‘Blistering,’ said Ciel. ‘If you can’t feel it there isn’t much point.’ He pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it into the laundry basket, rubbing his hair absently. And kicked off his boxers with a sharp smile. ‘I hope you’re intending to wash my jeans. I don’t fancy having to borrow anything of yours again.’

Sebastian heard the slide of what could only be the boy's boxers coming down and oh, he was already naked.

He wouldn't allow himself to look yet. 'Of course. I'll wash it in a bit.'

He kept his eyes trained on the water, and when he looked over, he kept his eyes firmly on the boy's face. 

Sebastian's hand fell to the front of his pants and he slowly undid the button. He nodded at the shower. 'After you.'

Ciel was fairly sure he kept his expression blank. ‘Oh, are you--’ His gaze dropped to the man’s hand.  _ Oh shit.  _ And he looked away.

He’d expected his professor to leave him here, to close the door behind him. Or perhaps, if he were in a teasing mood, to stay and watch. Ciel would have been prepared for that. Following him into the shower was something else. Surprising. Intimate.

Ciel stepped past the man and into the gushing shower. The water was hot, almost perfect; he adjusted the tap. And he could hide his heated face in the steam in here.

Sebastian willed his eyes not to follow the boy's movement.  _ Hah. Got you. _

He only glanced over. The boy was hiding his face now. How utterly adorable.

Sebastian smiled to himself while he undressed. A pull down and a shrug up and he was naked.

He shivered a little at the sudden chill of the room, and stepped into the pleasant heat of the shower.

He winced almost not at all. 'You weren't kidding about blistering.'

Ciel didn’t turn, only tilted his face upward and smiled into the steaming water. ‘Let me know if it’s too much for you, sir.’

Naughty boy, such a tease. But fuck, was he part of some fantasy race of fire-resistant elves? 

There were Fire Elves in D&D.

Not the point. Fuck, it was hot.

'I'll feel the burn,' Sebastian said bravely.

‘Delicate, are you?’ Ciel glanced down at his own bare arms, reddened already from the heat. He liked the sting of it, the gulp of steam in his throat. ‘Change it if you must. I don’t think martyrdom is your strong suit.’

_ Oh, you little--  _

Sebastian smiled tightly. He carefully shifted his leg out of the stream. 'Hmm. I think you're right.' He reached for the tap and turned it slowly.

Didn't stop.

All the way to the coldest setting.

Ciel yelped. ‘Oh fuck, I--’ He twisted out of the water. ‘ _ Fuck _ \--’

He pressed himself into the corner of the shower, his back to the cold tiles and the icy splash still running over his feet. ‘You bastard.’ He was breathless with laughter. His chest was shaking. ‘That’s unforgivable, you know.’

The laughter ripped through Sebastian hard enough that it made his belly hurt. Oh shit, that had been priceless.

'Oh?' Another chuckle, but he turned the tap back over to warm water and felt the spray heat back up.

He lazily reached for the soap. Held it into the warm gush of the water and rubbed his hands together.

'I'll make it up to you. Come closer.'

Ciel rubbed his arms with a shiver. There wasn’t any choice  _ except _ closer if he wanted to get warm again. But he tested the water warily before he stepped back into it. The man was still chuckling at him, a hiss of sound over the running shower.

‘I don’t like the cold. It’s bloody painful.’ He smiled, though. And tried not to notice how entirely naked the man was, tall and naked and much too close, his dark eyes narrowed beautifully with laughter. Water streaming over the slope of his shoulders. And his chest, exactly at eye-level, hmm--

‘I can wash myself,’ Ciel said stiffly.

'Oh, can you?' Sebastian couldn't stop grinning. 'I don't doubt your basic adult skills in personal upkeep.' He held out the frothy soap to Ciel. 'Down for a demonstration, though.'

Ciel took it slowly, his eyes kept carefully lowered. He was glad for the drift of steam to hide the burn of his cheeks. Damn it, he really should have kept his mouth shut.

He began to wash himself as unhurriedly as if he were alone. He wasn’t going to put on a show for anyone’s entertainment, it was ridiculous. He wouldn’t think about the steady gaze that he’d probably find if he dared look up again. He ran his lathered hand slowly behind his neck, under his arms. Steadied himself against the tiled wall as he bent to rub the smear of mud-flecks from his ankles, leaning out of the stream of the shower. His hip bumped at the man’s knees.

‘Shit--’ The bar of soap was slippery, too big in his palm, and it slithered out of his grip and into the corner by the shower door.

'Heh.' 

Sebastian coughed out another round of chuckles. Fuck, he could stand here all day and watch this boy flounder about in his shower.

He dropped into a crouch to pick up the soap and stood up again. 'Okay, then. We'll say that was a rehearsal.'

He broke the bar of soap into smaller pieces. He handed one to Ciel, kept one himself, and stashed away the rest of the bar.

'Look at me this time,' Sebastian said. He searched for eye contact. 'Look at me, while you wash yourself. Would you?'

Ciel didn’t answer. But he met the man’s gaze, blinking water from his eyelashes. He’d never had trouble staring somebody down. It should be no different now. He didn’t trust himself to speak. And what could he say under those inescapable eyes? Watching him warmly, amused. The corners of the man’s lips were still turned up.

The silence was more than enough, the rushing water. 

Ciel tried again. Keeping his gaze steady. Paying attention, this time, to the softening of his tired shoulders under the water. Moving slowly, feeling the slide of the foamy soap over his belly. The tickle of the lather as it slid down his thigh. 

The clean scent of it sat sharply in his throat. Ciel twitched his toes. The burning heat rippled over his skin and he sighed, a shaky heave of his chest.

And Sebastian looked.

At the boy's shoulders, his chest. How it flexed a little with his movements, those slim muscles beneath his skin. His belly, flat and trim with youth. He didn't look like he worked out much, but he didn't yet need to. His body was at its apex, the golden age at the tail-end of growth and just before the onset of aging.

He watched as the boy's hand slid down to his thigh. Wet pubic hair sagged down toward his cock. The head was tantalizingly hidden from view beneath the skin.

Sebastian inhaled deeply. The moist air settled at the back of his throat. He took a step forward, into the hot stream, and shivered as the water ran down his chest, his hips, his legs.

'You're a vision,' he said.

‘No.’ Ciel didn’t blink. ‘Very real.’ But nothing felt real in this haze of glass and pale tiles. An hour ago he’d been curled up in the cool silence of his own bedroom, and this almost felt as insubstantial as his own puff of breath. The curl of steam off his professor’s broad shoulders. The stream of water from the man's hair, and his firm chest. Dark nipples. Ciel sighed, looking lower. Lower, to the inky trail of hair and the glisten of his cock. The long lines of the wet body. Gleaming. Elegant.

Ciel felt light-headed. Would his teacher let himself be touched? He put out his fingertips, running them down the warm concave of the man’s breastbone. Slick skin. Firm bone under it. Real.

Ciel shivered. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Can you feel?’ He raised his eyes again. ‘If you need proof I can bite you, if you like.’

Sebastian closed his eyes at the touch. So gentle. Testing the waters, only the slightest touch. It sent ripples through him in slow, expanding shivers. 

'I feel it.' Quietly, almost swallowed by the drizzle of the water. He opened his eyes again, and looked into the boy's blue eyes.

Sebastian leaned in, and put a hand on the boy's waist and slid it up, along his side to his chest, and down again, over his sternum to his upper abdomen. Smooth, wet skin. His hand seemed to move without any conscious thought at all. Sliding along the natural path of the slick angles.

'Biting, huh?' A sharp smile, and he leaned in closer. Angled his neck and shoulder toward the boy's face. 'Do it if you dare.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND CUT !!!! 
> 
> Ahhh, sorry for ending it there! The next chapter will be up soon, in a couple of days. We just didn't want to drop a 14k word chapter. We'll see the culmination of the shower scene soon, hehe.
> 
> The name of Sebastian's cat is stolen from nighttime_tea_party -- with permission :)
> 
> Soooo... been a while since we updated! We were quite busy thinking about where we wanted the story to go, figuring out what should happen, how it should end, all that. This fic was only supposed to be a one-shot, but it grew a life of its own, as these things often do. Good news is we have a goal and an endpoint in mind.
> 
> Not for a while, though. This will be quite long.
> 
> And... I suppose an announcement is in order regarding where this fic is headed in the near-future. Not just yet, and not even in the next couple of chapters, but eventually...
> 
> Yeaaaaah. That happened.
> 
> Shockingly, Amanitus did not put up much of a fight.
> 
> See you very soon in the next chapter!! Commens are loved as always. Sorry for the long wait! We love this story, and we're here for the long ride :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Turn around.' Sebastian bit out the words in between fast breaths. 'I want you to see whose cock you're riding.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Ethics 101! Today's lecture includes.... well....
> 
> like 1% intellectual pretentiousness and 99% filth. 
> 
> Woops?

Ciel’s cock twitched at the touch on his body. He’d only been joking, but his professor’s smile was such a tease, that dangerous flicker in his eyes, an edge and a challenge. 

He hardly had to reach up at all when he leaned in. He balanced himself, his palm flat on the man’s chest, and pressed his teeth into the smooth shoulder. Wet, clean. Too clean-- no flavour of soft skin, only a mouthful of water. It wasn’t enough.

He let the soap slither from his fingers and pulled himself closer. Sliding his other hand up the man’s spine, curling it behind his neck. And he bit again, higher on the bare damp neck, close enough to feel the swing of his stirring cock against the man’s thigh.

'Oh.' Sebastian gasped at the feel of the boy's teeth sinking into his neck. He grit his teeth. Oh, fuck. Well. That was--

Interesting. He couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed someone to bite him. 

But oh, the feel of the boy's cock against his thigh...

Sebastian reached down, down across the wet slide of Ciel's back and hips and lower still, lower, to the boy's cute little arse. He ran his palms over it before cupping a cheek in each hand and kneading them rhythmically.

He looked down over the boy's shoulder, at his own glistening hands squeezing the wet globes. Fuck. So hot.

His cock twitched against the boy's belly.

Ciel pulled his mouth away, panting. What was it about this man that did this to him? In the college office today, it was only a kiss and he’d been stiff, and now, already-- He grunted breathlessly at the squeeze of strong fingers in his flesh. And the swell of his professor’s cock under him. And that’s what it was, the thing that burned in his blood-- nobody had ever touched him like this. Slow and hungry and in deep delight. Nobody had ever handled him so unsparingly, enjoyed him so completely, and had the nerve to make him want it. 

‘Oh Christ--’ Ciel’s eyes sank closed and he rubbed himself against the man’s hip, a shudder of pleasure.

Sebastian let his lips hover over the boy's neck. 'My turn.' He pulled Ciel closer and fastened his teeth around his neck and bit down. Hard.

And gripped his arse a little harder. Pulled it apart, and trailed a finger along the slick crack. He found the puckered flesh and massaged it gently, and oh, how easy would it be to slip a finger inside. His hands were already wet and slippery with soap. But not yet -- he was content for now just to play, to rub and tease, and feel the boy's hot cock against his hip.

'You feel so good.' Sebastian sighed the words against Ciel's neck.

The hot breath swept over Ciel’s throat, a pulse like an echo of the bite, liquid down his spine. But he quivered at the pressing finger.

‘God, ah--’ It made his legs shake and he arched on his tiptoes, squirming against the man’s body. His fingers tightened behind his professor’s neck. ‘Don’t. Don't tease--’

Sebastian laughed against Ciel's neck. Moved his hands up along the boy's back and rested them on his shoulder blades. 

The boy's large eyes blinked at him. Drops of water ran down his cheeks and dangled off his chin. So cute. 

Sebastian leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Ran his tongue along the boy's bottom lip before he spoke in a whisper. 'Turn around.'

Ciel’s cheeks felt as though they would scorch him. His teacher was laughing at him, eyes gleaming through the steam, and he glanced away. His cock pressed stiff at the man’s thigh but he couldn’t help it, that was the problem. The kiss buzzed in his blood. He couldn’t help the fact that his hands shook with it.

He slid his hands away from the man’s neck and turned, slowly, feeling the fall of hot water over his back.

'Bossy,' he whispered.

'Hmm.' Sebastian reached for the soap, and rubbed it between his palms. 'Not that bossy today, am I?' He looked at the boy, let his eyes drag along his back to his cute pert little --

Ah. Soon, but not yet.

'Would you let me wash your back?'

Ciel looked down at the squinch of his bare toes, curling pink in the swirl of water. ‘Yes.’ He half-turned his head. ‘Yes, please.’ And he closed his eyes, listening to the hissing shower. ‘It's true. You haven’t been so bossy tonight.’ Quietly, as though he was talking to himself. ‘It’s different. Is this how you usually are? Or is your work voice the real one?’

'Ah, good question.' Sebastian pressed his thigh against the boy's to nudge him out of the stream. Once his glistening back was outside of it, he began to lather the soap on it. 

'What, indeed, is real? Carl Jung believed that we all had a social face which we show to different people in different contexts, to conceal our true selves. The persona.'

Strong, firm, circular strokes. Up to Ciel's shoulders, down along his shoulder breaks. Up again. And Ciel felt himself relax under the strong kneading fingers. Sliding, smooth, and he leaned his hands against the tiled shower wall.

'And Jung said that, the stronger the ego, the more flexible and multi-faceted the persona...' Sebastian's eyes trailed over the boy's back. It was freckled. How adorable.

He ground his cock against the small of Ciel's back. Watched the reddened tip slide along his skin, the slit tightening and releasing with the press of each push. 'Hnnn....'

‘Flexible. Of course.’ Ciel smiled, his eyes closed. ‘I’m sure Jung would have considered you a very clever bastard.’ The man’s cock was firm, insistent behind him, and his own pulsed sharply. Ciel pushed back against it, a shift of his body. But he spoke steadily. ‘This is simply another facet of your persona, then.’ He half-turned his head. ‘I could get used to it.’

The water hit the side of Sebastian's face. He felt it swerve around his lips when he smiled sharply. 'Don't.'

And he guided the boy back into the stream, and slowly washed off the foam. Watched it run down his back in glistening rivulets. His hands followed, and lower, and slipped his fingers in between his cute little cheeks again.

And nudged the tip of one finger against the hole. He pushed, and passed the ring of muscles smoothly.

Ciel flinched, shivering at the touch. The press inside him. But he breathed, making a low sound in his throat. ‘ _God_ \--’ He blinked the droplets from his eyelashes and hung his head in the hot water, sliding his hand down to the arch of his thickened cock. He gripped it, slippery in his wet fingers, and the surge of pleasure tightened through his legs.

Sebastian's chest tightened with excitement at the sound. Ah, shit. He'd missed that beautifully reactive body, his moans and gasps, and he realised with a throb in his cock that tonight, there would be no reason to be quiet...

_Ah._

Sebastian pushed his finger in deeper, slowly and methodically. Felt the delicious stretch around him. He retreated, and pushed in again, finding Ciel already wetter, slicker, readier.

He ducked his head and peppered kisses onto Ciel's shoulder, and then lower, biting his slippery back. But there was too much water, and he settled on just looking at the smooth glide of wet skin as he sunk down lower.

He kneeled, and spread apart the boy's arse. 

Fucking hell. What a sight.

Ciel hummed in his chest, trying not to bounce on his toes. He squeezed around the plunging finger, sharp inside him, and he wanted it deeper. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to be in the middle of things, too hard to think, too swept away to remember that he had a body at all.

If they were going to do this they ought to get out of here and dry again and back where he knew what was happening. But he didn’t think that’s what the professor had in mind.

He glanced behind him, shivering. And the man was just looking. Sliding his finger back in. Drawing it out, pinning Ciel so keenly in this aching moment that he wanted to growl.

‘Two,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Harder.’

Sebastian stilled his finger. Considered.

Oh, now the boy wanted to rush, didn't he? Sebastian wasn't about to fuck him with some soap as the only lubricant; that would sting inside his urethra, and he didn't want to get soap into Ciel's intestines. He'd been having sex for longer than this boy was alive; he had silicone-based lube in a drawer within reach of the shower stall.

He removed his finger gently and got to his feet. Wrapped his arms around Ciel from behind and nipped his neck.

'If you want me to go faster....' He bit the boy's earlobe and chased the bite with a lick. 'You'll have to seduce me.' Another bite. 'And don't ask a man to open you up with soap, little gay boy.'

Ciel moaned. He wanted to say _piss off, I’m not that little_ or _actually I’m bi and I’m pretty sure you are too_ but God, the man’s cock was grinding hot at his back and he forgot what he was trying to think. It didn’t matter. His professor was only teasing, always, with touch and teeth and words.

Seduction, ah. Ciel shivered. ‘I can’t seduce you,' he said quietly. He tilted back his head on the man’s chest and arched against the stiff cock at his spine. ‘But I’m here. Is that enough?’ He closed his eyes. Laid his hand over the man’s wrist and guided the warm hand lower, slowly down his body toward the restless heat of his cock. ‘I came here for you. Because you asked me to. Because I wanted you. And I do want you.' He whispered. 'Please--'

 _Please_. The boy's sweet plea grazed across Sebastian's nerve endings pleasurably, and then he felt the swell of his wet cock against his hand--

'Fuck. You're plenty seductive.' His hand wrapped around the boy's cock willingly and gave it a slow tug. 'Hold on --'

Sebastian slid the door open. A chill swept over his hand when he reached out to fumble for the drawer. 

It would be easier to keep it in the shower stall itself. But Sebastian was always careful to keep all evidence of his sex life hidden from view. Lily came over unannounced sometimes.

Sebastian pulled out the tube and shut the door again. He quickly coated both hands with it, and wrapped his hand around Ciel's cock.

It moved almost automatically with the slickness now, and he rolled the foreskin over the head and back again, settling into a rhythm.

He took a step back and slid the other hand down along the boy's crack to his hole, and nudged his fingers against it gently.

'I want you, too.' He kissed the boy's shoulder. 'God. Too damn much.' He chuckled. Gave the boy another sharp tug and felt his cock pulse in his hand deliciously. 'Do you think I'm mad?'

‘God. _Yes_. Completely.’ Ciel moaned at the squeeze. ‘ _Ah_ \--I don’t know.’ Not mad. Not exactly. But impulsive, strange. Wonderfully unpredictable. 

The man’s strong grip slid tightly over him, and Ciel tried not to tense at the slick cool fingers teasing at his hole. He drew a deep breath. Let it out shakily. It shouldn’t feel so utterly right. This thing had been over just a few hours ago; he’d walked away. And stumbled straight back into the man’s hands. Perhaps they were both mad. 

‘Fuck,’ Ciel said softly. ‘But it’s good.’ He braced himself against the tiles in front of him, his breaths stirring the clouds of steam.

Sebastian pushed his finger back inside.

And fuck. Those tight walls. With both of Sebastian's hands now pleasuring Ciel, his own cock arched near-painfully between his legs, heavy with frustration. 

Shit.

But he angled his hand so he could press his finger down toward the boy's front and searched along the wall until he found the wrinkled skin he was looking for.

'Do you like that?' 

‘Yeah. _Ah_ \--’ Breathy. ‘Yes. _Fuck_ yes.’ Ciel’s legs were going to melt. His cheeks were blazing, and his chest, and every breath he pulled into his lungs was damp. Hot. ‘Too fucking good--’

Sebastian massaged the boy's prostate gently, and oh -- he felt his walls grip his finger, twitch around it and then melt sweetly in relaxation, fuck--

He pressed in a second finger. Gently, and he didn't have to push very hard. He looked down and watched the ring of muscles stretch.

The sight went from his eyes straight to his cock and he let out a moan.

The man’s sound burned in Ciel’s body. His hands twitched against the tiles but he held still, pinned by the careful fingers, the slick grip on his cock. Dizzy with the need for more. Deeper. His professor’s clever hands. Ciel groaned. And suddenly his throat was tight. 

‘Oh fuck,’ he said. ‘God. God, I’ll come--’

'Not yet.' Sebastian curled his hand and squeezed the shaft gently with his thumb and index finger. He flicked his tongue over the shell of the boy's ears. 'I want you to come around my cock. Get on the floor.'

Ciel breathed out slowly and eased himself away from the strong hands. The man really planned to do this here, then. Now. But Christ, he was ready for it. He knelt down in the shower stall, shaky on his hands and knees. Feeling the steaming fall of water over his back. Blinking the dripping water from his eyes. His cock ached, heavy between his thighs as he settled them wider, but he didn’t touch it again. He was too close already.

Sebastian kneeled behind the boy.

 _It's going fast,_ he thought dimly. He had only followed his instinct. Ever since the boy had arrived, he hadn't thought a single critical thought. About what the hell they were doing. Why he was getting more and more entangled while fully conscious of it. A feeling like jumping off a skyscraper with your eyes wide open.

Fuck, though. Ciel was sexy as hell. Curved back, cinched waist, round arse in the air. Ah....

Sebastian needed this, now. He had to come, this was obvious; if he didn't, the blood would settle in his balls. It would be agony.

He reached for the lube and slathered it on his cock. Gave himself a tug, two, three-- _nng,_ it felt too good. His cock was throbbing. Impatient, and this wasn't too fast. 

It wasn't fast _enough_.

Sebastian grasped his cock and directed it toward the boy's hole, and pushed against it, and oh, the skin was giving way beneath him almost too easily, it would be so easy to--

He grit his teeth. Placed his hands on the boy's waist, and held him in place, and felt the tip of his cock push past the ring of muscles.

Ciel tried not to wriggle, wagging his hips impatiently, his chest tense with shame, but the thickened cock slid inside so fucking _well_ and he gasped roughly. His hands curled in the swirl of water around him. ‘Ah-- _hnn_ -’

He’d missed this. It pulsed in his head. He’d spent too many days thinking about it, this man-- Not just the feel of him, though. All of it. His quick sharp smile and his restlessness, this undirected impulse, this madness that had left them fucking hungrily in the shower. The need filled him as surely as the man's cock, a tremble under his skin.

Sebastian winced as something stung his cock.

Why? Oh. The soap he'd left inside Ciel before. And Ciel was tight, and tighter still where Sebastian's fingers had not reached.

He paused, half-inside, and looked at the boy beneath him.

Oh, the way his opened cheeks swelled around him. He could see the stretch of the skin around his cock, too, fuck--

He took it slow. Pushed in further in increments, waiting for the walls to adjust before moving forward. In, in, until he was all buried inside.

Fuck. And it didn't sting anymore. The boy molded around him, sinfully tight but quivering with arousal.

'Fuck. You feel so good.' What was he even saying? 'It's the tightest, hottest fit, but you yield so sweetly around me.'

Ciel flushed at the words. At the slow push inside him. He slung his belly lower and set his teeth together, biting off his moan. Was the man always like this? Taking too long. Talking too much, not permitting either of them to miss a filthy detail. Ciel didn’t want to think about it. It was already too much to feel the slide of the cock, deeper, _fuck_ \--

He squeezed around the stiff weight inside him. Desperate for friction as the tension rippled down his shivering legs. ‘Please, I need it--’

Sebastian shuddered at the squeeze. 'Ah. Move with me.'

He placed his hands on the boy's hips and pulled him down as he settled back on his heels. Lifted the boy's torso and slid up his hands over the slick chest and pulled him closer. Holding him from behind, his cock buried to the hilt.

The water ran down along his chin and sprayed his sides pleasantly. He watched the pearls quiver and run down all along the boy's spine when he moved it.

He stroked Ciel's chest and stomach. Gently, in slow circles, and pressed his chin to his shoulder.

'Tell me what you need,' he whispered. He lifted up his hips, deeper, deeper, ah, he couldn't go any deeper. God, he felt so good. 'Tell me what you need exactly, sweetheart.'

Ciel moaned through his teeth as he settled back onto the man’s strong thighs. ‘Just this,’ he whispered. The warm hands slid over his body, gentle, soothing. _Sweetheart._ He bit his lip and breathed out raggedly. Raised himself, a slow slide on the heavy cock, and sank down again. An aching pulse inside.

‘This, ah--’ Again, the long silken drag stretching him. Throbbing, a burning satisfaction. ‘Fuck. I wanted you today. At your office--’ Ciel steadied himself, his fingers shaking on the wet tiled wall. ‘And this is… mhm. God.’

There was an impatient pulse between his parted legs and he wrapped his fingers around himself loosely, stroking the shaft as he moved. Digging in his heels. Tucking them against the man’s calves. And he could shift breathlessly, a deep rhythm, grinding his arse in his professor’s lap. Fucking himself on the cock behind him.

Sebastian held his breath and watched.

Oh, the little thing was enjoying it. Bearing down on his cock hungrily, wriggling his little arse to accommodate him. Babbling and shaky. The hot little slut.

He grabbed the boy's hips, and broke his rhythm with one sharp snap of his hips.

'Ah. You like my cock?' He thrust in, hard and fast, not giving the boy a chance to answer. 'You like it? Hmmm.'

He let his lips fall to the boy's shoulder, caught some skin between his teeth. His grip tightened, and his hips snapped upwards again. His loins slapped wetly against the boy's arse, and he fucked up into the boy, slow and hard and deep.

He went in all the way, and held the boy still. Felt his heart beat flutter, the pulse of his excitement. His walls trembled and Sebastian nearly lost it.

'Turn around.' He bit out the words in between fast breaths. 'I want you to see whose cock you're riding.' 

Sebastian pulled out and settled with his back against the wall.

Ciel knelt panting, stinging at the sudden slide out of him. He shifted on his knees and ducked through the steaming water to straddle the man’s lap. Carefully, his breath unsteady, curling his hand behind his professor's neck as he settled his knees apart. Trailed his hand down the slick chest, warm skin. He bit his lip.

If he leaned back on his hand he could reach down and grip the man's slippery cock and guide it between his legs. 

'Christ.' It was so stiff, swollen red in his fingers, and Ciel pushed the dripping hair from his eyes and glanced up. The man’s gaze was glittering, sharp and dark, burning down his spine and he looked away again. 

A press at his clenching hole and he sank back down, breathing out sharply. It slid in so smoothly this time, slowly, aching, fuck, and Ciel didn’t even have to pause.

‘You’re so fucking hard, ah--’ The head of his cock twitched against the man’s belly and he moaned, rolling his hips.

Sebastian watched the contradiction in the boy: the wanton roll of his hips, the shudder of his hard cock, the lust-glazed eyes -- and the shy aversion of his gaze, looking anywhere but at Sebastian. Clinging to that last bit of modesty while he bounced on Sebastian's cock like a horny slut and fuck, that was hot.

'Ah, yes --' Sebastian curled two fingers lightly around the boy's cock and held it, not yet stroking. It pulsed in his hand, so hard and ready, oh God. 

'You make me hard,' Sebastian said. He tightened the muscles in his thighs and fucked up once, meeting the boy mid-movement. 'Ah. Fuck. I'm so... _hah--_ deep inside you, can you feel it?'

He wanted to go deeper. Skewer this cute boy on his cock. Reach inside deeper than anyone ever has. He couldn't reach deeper.

He tightened the muscles at the base of his cock instead to make it twitch and felt it press up against the boy's front wall. 'Do you feel that?'

The tension hardened through the man’s stomach, a gleam of muscle, and Ciel gasped. ‘Yeah. Fuck. Yes. _Ah_ \--’ He leaned back on both his hands, rolling forwards again. Lifting his hips just enough to feel the slide of the heavy cock dragging against the electric shiver inside him. Those long fingers circled his cock softly, nothing near enough but he was almost glad. He wasn’t going to last and if the man squeezed him-- 

His neck had been tense all afternoon. He’d been trying not to think about his teacher, about the _other_ time they’d met in that office. It had been difficult enough to stay calm the first time they’d done this, in the quick hot fear of being found out. 

But here in the heat, with the silence, the slow languorous curve of the man’s lips-- 

Ciel half-closed his eyes, watching the liquid rivulets stream over the man’s chest. Tightening his knees against the spread thighs. ‘I can feel you. Oh god, when you _move_ \--’

'Yes.' The word whistled between Sebastian's teeth. 'Yes. Yes.' And Sebastian dug his fingers into Ciel's waist and pulled him up, just enough to give him room to work with. He moved his hips, fucked up into the tight hot grip of the boy's body.

'Like this.' Sebastian slid down along the wet tiles, lower. 

He thrust up, and in, and _oh_. 'Don't -- don't hold back.' Another thrust, loud this time. A slap. 'Let it out.' Slap. 'Moan for me, let me hear it.' Slap. 'You're so good --'

Ciel hummed. 'Mhm. Yes.' Gasped through parted lips. 'There, _yes_ \--' He couldn’t be quiet now if he tried and he could hear his own quick breaths. The moans, sharp and high. And fuck, the angle was just a little lower, deeper, aching against the dangerous throb of pressure inside him, and Ciel watched the flex of the man's body. The tightening of his broad shoulders as he tensed and thrust. 

'God--' He couldn’t steady himself. The rhythm was hard and he felt it ripple through his legs. The bounce of his stiff cock. The man's fingers dug deep into his hips and he arched, felt the nails sharp in his skin, felt the flushed heat of his chest sinking into his bones as his breath began to hitch. 'Oh fuck. Oh fuck...'

'Are you close?' Sebastian’s fingers around the boy's cock remained relaxed, but he felt the straining stiffness of it. Hard as silk-covered steel. Red at the tip and arching, fuck.

He thrust in once more, sharply angled; he made the boy's torso shudder forward with the force of it, and his face got closer. Sebastian wanted to swallow his moans. Wanted to catch that bottom lip between his teeth.

He bumped his nose against Ciel's forehead. His thighs were shaking with the effort to thrust up into him, but he couldn't stop. 'How--how close?'

‘I don’t know. _Close._ Fuck--’ Ciel felt the man’s body tremble under him. ‘Fuck, I can’t--’   
He couldn’t tell. It shivered under his skin. He couldn’t tell how many more breaths he could drag in. How many more heavy strokes he could take. He raised himself higher on his knees, feeling the thickened cock slide out almost to the tip and the ease of pressure made him gasp dizzily. But frustration burned through him. 

He sank down hard and deep. Grinding his hips close, his chest unbearably tight. His stomach, his balls. 'God, I need to _come_ \--'

'Soon,' Sebastian said. His fingers danced across Ciel's shaft. He scratched the hard length lightly. Then pressed his fingers down, down near the base.

'But not yet.' And he sat up a little straighter, changing the angle once again, turning the pressure away from the front of the boy's wall, away from the bundle of nerves that would hasten his release.

He thrust in again, deep and firm, and sighed. His fingers around the boy's cock slackened into barely-there pressure. He let his eyes slip close in pleasure. He focused on the sensual trance that seized his mind, the pressure in his loins, the glimpse of the edge.

'Want me to fill you up again-- did you like that? When I... finished inside you.'

‘Ah--’ Ciel faltered. ‘Yes.’ _Once._ He said he’d try it _once_ but tonight he hadn’t even questioned the heavy thing pushing raw inside him. Had he even stopped to consider? He'd known it would finish like this. Nobody had ever taken him so completely. 

‘God,’ he whispered. ‘Yes.’ Even the thought of it was enough to make his body clench. ‘You liked it too. Didn’t you?’ Breathy, his cheeks scorching. He kept his eyes lowered. ‘Making--hah. Making a mess of me.’ He bucked sharply, trying to push harder into the teasing hand that held him too loosely. He felt the pulsing kick inside him and made a sound in his throat.

Sebastian closed his eyes. Focused on the ripples of pleasure that coursed through him with his lower body as the pulsing center of it. 

'I loved it.' He breathed out the words hotly, and slowly opened his eyes. 'Your torn shirt, the-- the bruise on your neck, and then-- to come inside you, ah--'

 _To defile you_ , he thought, and the thought nearly pushed him over the edge. 

But this was good, too. It wasn't about dominance this time, only pleasure. Not a transgression, only enjoyment. Only two flushed, aroused bodies. The boy's youthful face, his smooth body.

'Let's finish.' Sebastian rolled up his hips. Gasped. Felt the flutter of the boy's muscles, and oh God. 'I'll come if you--'

Ciel couldn’t breathe. He saw the delicious tension ripple through the man’s chest and fuck, his words, his heavy-lidded eyes, the burning hush of his voice-- 

The man’s grip was hard and sudden and Ciel arched, gasping. His eyes closed. He couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to stop the rolling heat through his hips, his thighs.

He wanted to rock into the heady pleasure but his knees trembled, unable to move. He ached, caught between the strong fingers on his shaft and the hungry pulse of the cock inside him-- hot, unyielding as he squeezed. Helpless, seizing. 

‘Oh Christ--’ He'd shake himself to pieces. Shivering in the man's lap. No words, only a long breath. Moaning.

'Fuck, yes--' Sebastian felt the boy coming. His arse tightened, wrapped snugly around Sebastian's shivering cock, and God, the boy's eyes rolled back in ecstasy--

'Ah.' He felt the first contraction. Hard, rough around his cock. The boy's cock kicked. Cum arced in the air and splattered against Sebastian's chest. Sebastian kept stroking the boy's cock through it.

'Oh yeah. Ah.' Sebastian gnashed his teeth, he couldn't stop it, he couldn't, he was--

 _There._

He felt himself thrust up harshly. Once, twice, and locked his hips to the boy's thighs and held himself there.

The pleasure crashed over him. He moaned senselessly, needlessly. Loud echoes in the shower stall.

He pressed the boy down on his cock, as hard as he could. Deep, deeper. And ah, that was the first burst of cum into the boy's hot, willing body, and Sebastian held him closer. Dug his fingers into his waist, and kept cumming. More. And more.

Ciel moaned at the sharp thrust. ‘Fuck--’ And another. ‘Nhn, _fuck_ \--’ He rocked into the man’s fist, the last liquid ripples still blurring his vision, his senses, and deep in the tight shiver of his own pleasure he felt the man’s cock pulse. He clenched again. A pumping hot sputter. 

His professor’s lashes fluttered. Ciel stared at his sharpened face, the lips curled to bare a flash of teeth and he winced at the grip on his waist. Thumb and fingers pressed deep. The shudder inside him. His head hummed, a slow break of thunder. 

He slumped forwards, reaching for the wall, hanging from the man’s neck.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Ciel's torso and allowed him to catch his breath.

Sebastian needed the break, too. His cock was shrinking, but still hard enough to stay inside. Sebastian rolled up his hips slowly, and looked down to see some of his cum gather at the base of his cock where it had dripped out of Ciel. 

The aftershock made him tremble and sigh. His bones felt like liquid now. He felt good.

He kissed Ciel. Slow and gentle, nibbling on the boy's lower lip before pushing his tongue against the boy's mouth. _Let me in._

Ciel parted his lips for the wet tongue, curling his own against it. Tilting up his chin to kiss more deeply, more greedily. Dazed, slow. Luxuriating in the sudden silence in his head. 

When he shifted his hips he felt the sticky shiver of the man’s cock slip out of him, and the hot slosh of cum behind it. He sighed, leaning against the man’s hot chest, a small moan at the perfect heaviness of his limbs, his pulse beginning to steady under his skin.

Sebastian broke the kiss with a sigh.

'Hmm. That was nice.' He nodded for the boy to move. 'Let me get up now. I still have to wash myself. There's a spare bathrobe for you.' A pause. 'Care to join me for a drink?'

Ciel rubbed at his bare arms. Shivered. ‘Drink sounds good,’ he said, and eased himself off the man’s lap.

He stood a moment under the hot water to wash himself off again, moving slowly, comfortably. His eyes closed. As easily as if he were alone.

He opened the shower door and stepped out, flinching in the sudden shock of cooler air. He took a folded towel from the stack beside the sink and began to dry himself roughly. The bathroom was a swirl of steam but his head was keenly clear. A drink did sound perfect; but that would mean sitting on his teacher’s sofa. Talking, and he wasn’t sure what to say. And if his clothes hadn’t been tossed into the wash basket, he’d be seriously considering walking out the front door right about now.

The man had never had any problem getting him to talk, though. 

Ciel gave a shivering sigh. ‘Bathrobe?’ He raised his voice above the hiss of running water.

'Second drawer in the cabinet next to the door.' 

Ciel pulled it on and finished drying his hair, another absent-minded ruffle with the towel, but the shower taps were being turned off and he paused. He needed two minutes to steady himself before he could speak again. A moment to breathe, to think.

He left the bathroom quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's Ama here--
> 
> So. This chapter has some of the most graphic porn that either of us has ever written, and we think it's very nice. Please let us know if you agree. 
> 
> This story is nowhere near over, and next up Sebastian and his student will be having a little chat over a late-night drink... but we can't make promises about a date for the next chapter. We're both working on our solo longfics, and apparently 2021 is a thing now so updating this one might take a little while. But if you're enjoying these pretentious horny bastards, please subscribe to the fic because there WILL be more.
> 
> And if you need more pretentious horny bastards in the meantime-- if the combination of sexy Sebaciel snark and philosophical wank does happy things to your brain-- go and read Sinn's [Coffee and Cigarettes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795809/chapters/65369587). It Is Good.


End file.
